


In The Bleak Mid-Winter

by orphan_account



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Angst, Canon-related, Chryed, M/M, episode-related, multi-chaptered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, if that's what you want...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm, I have NO idea how this one's going to pan out. Basically I'm planning to closely follow canon in this one - write in and around Chryed episodes (as they're aired - up to a point) taking my cues from the episodes themselves. When I say 'taking my cues' let's be clear: that may not mean what you think it means :D which is why I'm not saying how this will go - I don't know.
> 
> I will write chapters in between aired episodes too - we'll see how that fits into the overall narrative/plan.
> 
> I think it will be angsty - no question - but this will be 'standard' angst, not McD angst. Trust me that is a GOOD thing ;)

 

 

 

In The Bleak Mid Winter...

 

“...Christmas with me...”

“Jane...”

“I know, but could you?”

“I’d have to get a plane. At Christmas.”

“I know.”

She didn't appear to be prepared to say anything else so _he_ did. “And stay in my old flat. With Syed there.”

“I know.”

“With Amira.”

“Yeah.”

“God you don't ask much do you, sis?”

“Christian, please.”

“I'll do my best, Jane, but no guarantees.”

It was obvious by the squeal at the other end of the line that she took absolutely _no_ notice of this caution.

Point is, though, that he meant it: ordinarily she wouldn't have needed to ask twice; he'd have been there like a shot. But this was different – _he_ was different. Time and space away from Walford had allowed him to clear his head tremendously and though he was definitely still sore where Syed was concerned the pain wasn't as intense as it once had been. He _could_ be in the same room as him and not feel like his insides were unravelling.

Or at least he thought he could, had yet to put it to the test, wasn't particularly keen to either.

 _He'd_ made the final decision to end it, but it was Syed who'd supplied all the ammunition so far as he was concerned. He could live like that – all the lines blurred, agendas all over the shop, being pulled in a million different directions emotionally. Christian couldn't. And it had been obvious that Syed simply couldn't see that.

But that was done now; didn't mean that he was ready to see him yet. So he'd not say a definite yes to Jane but give himself time to _consider_ paying a visit.

**

Being off the market was a foreign concept to him. It had never even entered his consciousness until now. Trying to prove something? Prove he'd got Syed out of his system? Well he'd proved something alright: proved that much as he may have _wanted_ to be over Syed, the fact that he couldn't raise interest in the interest of this really hot guy he'd met in the airport told him otherwise in no uncertain terms.

Seems that being off the market wasn't just a decision you made _consciously_. Seemed that it was something even your subconscious had a hand in, making your body react (or not react) in a way that was surprising and annoying - to say the least.

So maybe coming back to Walford – if only temporarily – might be a _good_ thing if only to finally get Syed from under his skin, put _him_ back on the market!

Syed clearly didn't really want him anymore. Love him, yeah, he was pretty sure he did. Wanting to share a life with him was different, though, and Christian was confident that the events leading up to his departure had made that crystal clear to both of them.

He'd worked hard to win him, what, three of four times now? But there came a time when you had to draw a line, admit defeat. He pretty much knew that he'd drawn that line, wouldn't go there again. Didn't mean that he didn't _want_ to, that he didn't still love him. No, not love him - in love, in love with him. Yeah, still like that, but as he'd told Syed love, sometimes, just wasn't enough.

Syed had been completely truthful when he'd confessed that Christian wasn't enough for him, that having a family meant more. And that had hurt Christian more than anything Syed had ever said or done, yet he'd still wanted him enough to forgive it, forget it – _until_ he saw the truth of it played out for himself in glorious technicolour, right in front of his eyes.

Syed now had a second chance at the life he'd always wanted and Christian simply could not compete.

He felt that he'd just about come to terms with that fact. Now to put it to the final test.

**

God, Amira was a little bitch and the craziest thing was that Syed didn't seem able to see, unless it was that he didn't _want_ to.

It was a measure of how much he really had started to get Syed out of his system that he'd managed to keep some semblance of calm when he'd clocked exactly what was going on.

Syed was a pathetic coward, but that was his problem: if even now he honestly believed that he could repress what he was and live a happy life then good luck to him – in Pakistan.

He had clearly made his choice.

No amount of words that came after this would _alter_ this truth.

Well, he knew Amira would never get what she truly wanted from Syed, and that had to be the only crumb of comfort left to him here.

He could not be happy about the fact that Syed, too, would suffer, no matter how disappointed he was, no matter how careless he felt Syed had been with his heart.

Seemed that what Syed _truly_ wanted would always conflict with the smooth running of their relationship.

According to Syed Christian could give him nothing in comparison to the things he found with Amira. He'd apparently been able to 'find himself' with her; rediscover his ambition, with her, and let's not forget the all important 'regain his self-respect' with her.

No need to bloody ask him what he meant by that.

So, it had come to this, then – the fundamentals of life for Syed. And well, who was he to keep him from true happiness? If he wanted to go to Pakistan to start afresh, rediscover himself there, then Christian didn't have the authority (nor the inclination) to stand in his way.

They'd said their goodbyes once already and clearly it was truly goodbye this time – no way to come back from this one. So he'd do his best to make this a decent Christmas for his sister, then move back to Walford – for a little while anyway – before making a final decision on where to take it.

Syed wouldn't be there when he returned and it was thus a matter of deciding just how strong the memories of him, of happier times would be; deciding whether or not he'd be able to live with them.

 

At this point, he really, really didn't know.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“I shouldn't have expected anything else, Christian; it was _obvious_ it was too soon, no matter _what_ he said. I knew deep down he wasn't over her. And like a fool...”

He hated seeing her like this, beating herself up, blaming herself, once again thinking that all this proved – once and for all – that she didn't deserve any kind of happiness. “Jane, darling.” A tight hug and kiss showing that he at least cared for her happiness. “He may not be over her but he's a fool – always has been. I'm glad he made you happy for a little while – and I know, despite what's going on now – that he did make you happy, which is why I'm not going to say any bad words about him.” He sighed, hugged her even tighter. “God knows I'm many things, but I don't count being a hypocrite among them. I'm a fool to myself when it comes to his son, so I-”

“You still want him.”

He sighed again, encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder. “Not as simple as that, Jane. I want him...on my terms, I suppose, so no, I don't just want him. It comes with _conditions_ and I dunno, not exactly proud of that.”

“Only natural though, Christian: can't have a relationship where it's all one way or they're allowed to hurt you and not think anything of it.”

“I know he loves me...”

“Yeah, but it's about more than saying the words though isn't it? I think Mas loves me – in his own way – but Zainab's who he wants, who he'd rather be with.”

“You know what, they have more in common than we realised. Masood and Syed, I mean _._ I mean it's all about habit, about tradition, about not taking risks. Mas, he strike you as a risk taker?”

“That's kinda what I liked about him, the fact that he felt safe, Christian. Know what I mean? I mean don't get me wrong there was a bit of oomph there too-”

“Oh call a spade a spade, Jane: you fancied the pants off him.”

“Well, yeah, that too, but he was kind, Christian, and I needed that after Ian. It's like when we're together we just click, we really do, but whereas I don't have my heart tied up in knots, tangled up with another person, I think he does. I think he always will. And you know what, I think I'd have been prepared to accept that. It's the fact that he didn't tell me, that he wasn't straight with me. He was before, Christian, told me he still loved her and thats' why _we_ never could... And I respected him for that. Now it feels like he used me, like nothing had really changed – apart from his respect for me. If he'd still respected me then he'd have stayed away until he really was ready.”

There really was nothing Christian felt he could say to that so he allowed the silence to build between them.

“You'd think that I'd be big and old and ugly enough to know better, eh?” Her voice sounded muffled and he guessed she was holding back tears in an effort to what, not upset him?

“Sis, no, don't blame yourself for loving him. You did _nothing_ wrong. If he wants to stay safe, in his cosy little world, with his cosy little family then there's nothing you could have done – he was always going to yearn for that, no matter how happy you felt you could make him.” He placed a gentle kiss in her hair. “The intelligent thing is to know when it's time to call it quits.”

 

She raised her head to meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry, Christian.”

 

He shrugged, sighed and acknowledged her perceptiveness with a wry little smile.

 

**

 

Well, he'd decided: Christmas with Jane in Walford, then move on. He'd miss Roxy and a few of the other residents of Albert Square, but really, what was there for him now? 

He'd seen them a couple of times, walking through the square; the perfect couple, with the perfect child, soon to have the perfect business venture, the perfect life, and it had just been so draining watching Syed, wondering about him, worrying about him. Why the hell was he worried about him? Syed had moved on, was showing him in every single way that he was moving on. So why waste time and energy  _worrying_ about him? 

The closet was where he felt most comfortable, so fair enough, let him stay there: not Christian's place to drag him kicking and screaming out of it. All the stuff he'd said about being okay with his sexuality all so much hot air, said to please him, said to stop the rows, the debates. Christian had been truly shocked by the stuff he'd come out with when all that crap with Ben had blown up in their faces. So much had come out then, the truth of how he  _really_ felt about them, about  _him_ . And yeah it had hurt, but more because it felt like a betrayal, felt like Syed was allowing Amira to win, to feel like yes, Christian had ruined Syed's life, had led him to make a decision he had been busy regretting ever since.

Funny how little time it took to see your world come crashing down around your ears. Though, to be fair, it had been building, had been coming; he just hadn't wanted to see it.

He'd wanted Syed to be who  _he_ wanted him to be. And Syed clearly no longer felt obliged to pretend he wanted that too.

All this time he'd been sure, been absolutely certain that it was being true to yourself in terms of admitting who you were sexually that mattered most. It certainly was for him: for him everything, but everything stemmed from that one base decision. But clearly it was not the case for Syed. He'd just assumed that it  _had_ to be. Despite all evidence to the contrary, despite pretty much hearing it from the horse's mouth he'd gone on basing  _everything_ on that, on something that turned out to be a  _false_ assumption.

But no more, now he'd just have to add his relationship with Syed to that long list of failed relationships, and once again acknowledge, to himself if no-one else, that simply wanting something more than you'd wanted anything in your  _life_ was no guarantee that you'd finally get it.

 

And fighting for someone who was happy exactly where he was?

Absolutely futile.

 

**

 

He hadn't saved Masood for any other reason than he was in danger and Christian had the means to do something about it.

Yes, he remembered the way Masood had walked away from his battered body, left him to bleed to death. Yes, he'd shown Christian that he could have cared less if he perished on that lonely pavement, yet Christian hadn't hesitated: not for Syed's sake, but for his. It wasn't in his nature to turn his back on anyone in trouble, and despite the dislike he felt for Syed's family there was no way any of them would ever make him hate himself for being untrue to that fundamental truth of who he was.

He'd seen the way Syed looked at him, seen the love and relief in his eyes, but it was all much, much too late. In any case it wasn’t about them not loving each other.

It was worse than that.

It was something that couldn’t be fixed.


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe he _liked_ the drama; maybe that was it, why he'd been so damn reluctant to move away when Christian had suggested it.

He hadn't actually come right out and told him he thought his family was toxic, but that's what he thought: he didn't like who Syed was around them, and part of that was the fact that he knew Syed simply couldn’t see it, couldn't be at all reasonable about his family.

Look at everything that had happened since Masood and Zainab met all those years ago in Pakistan. He didn't actually believe in curses, but he did believe that there were some people who simply attracted drama. He didn't think Syed – by himself – was one of them, he did think that for so long as he associated with his family the bad luck would find him, though, and how the fuck did you say that to your partner? 'Stay away from your family, sweetheart, they're bad news.' Even he would have told anyone who suggested something like that exactly where to get off and Syed was totally unreasonable when it came to his family.

Christian had always seen it as a problem, but had been prepared to accept it as a weakness Syed was trying to manage. Now, however, it seemed less about something that couldn’t be helped, something he'd been indoctrinated into and didn't know how to step out of. Now it seemed more about the fact that an actual choice had been made. It wasn't about his family so much anymore, but about his values, what he decided was _important_.

He tried not to be unfair, tried to see it with as much neutrality as he could, but absolutely knew that he wouldn't have made the same choices as Syed.

No matter what happened, how he tried to spin it Syed put him way down the list of priorities – always had. His family did and always would come first, and since they despised Christian (he had no illusions that the momentary gratitude would last or ultimately change anything. Look how many times Zainab had made a gesture only to make it clear a little way down the line that her mind had changed not one jot) that was and always would be a problem.

It didn't matter anymore that he was with Amira, because it was clear to him now that Amira was a symptom rather than the cause. The fact that Syed couldn’t seem to see what his choosing Amira over Christian meant, how it must look, how it had to _feel_ said it all. Really – said it all.

For an intelligent bloke Syed could be an imbecile when it came to reading people, reading situations. Didn't know if it came from being the eldest or just simply being the mediator between his parents but his desire to please each and everyone was, Christian couldn't help feeling, a real handicap.

Yeah, he was self-centred, but he'd had to learn to be that way, mostly to stop himself making the errors in judgement Syed was making and had been making for a while.

You just couldn't please everyone, and if you tied yourself up in knots trying he guaranteed that there was only one person who'd end up suffering.

He'd believed Syed when he'd pleaded with him to understand that he was doing his best to make it right for all of them, to ensure that they could gain access to Yasmin, that nothing had changed at all. He'd believed him right up to the moment when he'd expected Christian to okay about Amira's presence in their lives; when he'd shown that he saw Christian the way Amira saw him, the way the Masoods saw him. No they didn't have the same 'values', didn't mean that Syed's values were superior, didn't mean that he was the low-life they all assumed him to be.

And that had been the final straw – the way Syed had looked at him: not on his side at all; all the Masoods lined up against him, pretty much telling him exactly where he stood - outside their inner circle. Always and forever.

And that had been it. How could he keep fighting Amira for custody of Syed (he had Syed's heart, he knew that) when Syed looked at him with contemptuous anger, pretty much letting him know that while he may have had his body, he didn't have his soul – nowhere close.

And he knew Syed loved him, knew it with everything in him, he'd just never, ever believed that there'd be a time when that no longer made a difference.

All he knew for sure was that the Masoods and their drama no longer had him in their thrall: he'd abdicated responsibility for Syed, left him to the tender mercies of his family.

If anything should have told Syed what hypocrites they were it should have been these recent series of events.

The fact that it wouldn't, that it would make no impact on him (in that way) whatsoever was exactly the reason he was walking away.

There came a time when you simply had to cut the cord.

He didn't even give a fuck that it was now unlikely that anyone would be going to Pakistan.

The fact that Syed had intended to; had pretty much told Christian that the only way he could get the life he wanted, the only way he could be the person he actually wanted to be was by emigrating to another country, away from the past, away from him, was _everything_.

Anything Syed did now – declarations of love, overtures of reconciliation - would be a lie in the face of that inescapable fact.

He'd done his crying a long time ago: Syed had broken his heart so many times it no longer even seemed worth his while gritting his teeth and putting the pieces back together. It had always hurt – mending his heart – since he was still tender there; different now, though, now it felt like he'd either grown a tougher carapace or it had been cauterized by custom.

He knew he was going to hurt him – Syed wasn't anywhere near as tough as he'd become – he just no longer gave himself the luxury of minding.

Wasn't sure they could ever be friends, but maybe – if he decided to stick around – they could eventually try.

He was damn sure he'd never have to face the ordeal of seeing Syed with another man, and how fucking ironic was that?

Somewhere he was sure the Gods were laughing themselves sick. 


	4. Chapter 4

Jane told him that Tamwar was quite badly burned and would need skin grafts. Obviously the family were very upset and would need time to themselves to come to terms with everything that had happened over Christmas. 

Christian didn't think they'd get it.

He was upset, of course he was, just didn't feel that he could _afford_ to be; couldn't allow himself to get sucked into that emotional quagmire yet again. No, he wasn't going to pretend that it didn't hurt to know that he and Sy were over, yet there was a part of him – a small part right now – that recognised the relief of finally, after way too long, feeling that he had _Christian_ back – the _real_ Christian, the one who knew the folly of getting tangled up in serious relationships, the one who took life by the scruff of the neck and didn't spend time mooning over a guy who would never truly be his.

It felt good, would feel better in time.

Give it a few days.

But this New Year's Eve was going to be very different from last year or the year before that, come to think of it.

The plain truth was that he 'd not had a brilliant New Year's since getting involved with Syed, and he'd kinda accepted that: he was _that_ in love with him he'd have put up with worse – _had_ put up with worse. But this year, this year would be different because it was time to start bloody living again.

 

**

“You look cheerful. What's up?” _Jane_ didn't look particularly cheerful, and he had a momentary pang of guilt as he saw the way she practically dragged herself to the kitchen. She was putting on a brave face, but yesterday they'd seen them return, and he'd known that it had killed her seeing Masood with his family – with Zainab.

“Well I'm looking straight ahead of me, sis, and all I can see is this light. It's faint, but it's getting brighter and brighter. It has my name in it, yours too.” He put an arm around her, pointed straight ahead, drawing her attention to where his finger directed. “It's called the future – the New Year. I'm heading there – both eyes open, both feet ready to land. How about you?”

“Christian...”

“This year could not be worse than the one that's gone. Agreed?”

“Oh don't tempt fate. You know better.”

“Why not? I'm not afraid of anything Fate has in store. After everything I've been through...”

She sighed, rubbed her cheek against his. “You know, I can't complain: I did get rid of Ian, did get what I wanted with Mas; got away from Albert Square.”

“And Next Year you'll keep going – onwards and upwards!”

She laughed, pushed him away. “Can't keep a good man down, eh?”

“Absolutely.” He watched in silence as she filled the kettle. Being away from Albert Square had done her good. Perhaps they should make a pact to make it a permanent move – for both of them! “You never liked him, did you?”

She glanced at him and he saw that she didn't need clarification, knew exactly who he meant. “I never quite ...trusted him. It's like with Mas: we're friends, good friends, but there's a part of himself he keeps completely locked away. No amount of talking, no amount of saying you love him unconditionally, that you accept everything about him – culture, religion – will let him share that with you. I sort of got that impression with Syed, too. He's sort of willing to give only so much, be only so much ...with us... Do you get what I mean?”

Did he! Didn't know whether to be annoyed all over again or feel a measure of vindication that it wasn’t just him who could sense that. “I don't think he has any idea how that makes me feel.”

“Maybe he just wants to feel like his culture is a special thing, that it's sort of a way of keeping that special tie between him and his family. Oh I don't know. Don't listen to me.”

“Like I need permission not to.” He laughed and hugged her. “No, but seriously you're probably right, though. It's just not going to make me feel any better about it.” Sighing, he leaned against the worktop, arms folded in an unconscious gesture of annoyed frustration. “Why would he do that? Why wouldn't he even _try_ to let me in? He says he loves me, but the minute anything blows up with his family he's putting me down saying I'm ignorant, don't get it. But he doesn't tell me anything, doesn't allow me to be a part of that side of his life, so how can I get it right? I don't stand a chance.”

“Christian...” She hugged _him_ this time, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “Sometimes, it's just better to let it go. I know you still love him, but it's always going to be this way, isn't it? And call me a selfish cow but I hate seeing my little brother unhappy and although I know that when you're together you're happy, there's always going to be that nagging corner of your mind where you're just waiting for the next time he hurts you, when he lets his family hurt you. Zainab hurts Mas al the time, yet he still goes back to her. I used to be that person – when I was with Ian, and I hated myself for it. A part of me hates Mas for benign that person too. But you're not like me and Mas, Christian. Don't let him make you.”

He stared sightlessly at the far wall, taking physical comfort from her embrace, and emotional and mental strength from her words.

No, he wasn't that person and she was right: he did allow Syed to make him that guy. But why, _why_ did he? If Syed wanted him above everything, above everyone – and demonstrated that, not when it was easy, but when it wasn’t bloody easy, when it really bloody mattered - then he'd put up with just about anything. But Syed had shown him for the final time just how little Christian mattered in the grand scheme that was Syed's Masood's ideal life, so no, he wasn't going to _keep_ being that man for him.

“What you doing New Year's Eve? Any plans?”

“Not a single one.”

“So,” He began to waltz her around the small space. “You wouldn't say no to taking your brother out dancing then.”

“I would not. And if he's really good I'll even get myself back home in one piece when he cops off.”

“You are,” He kissed her loudly on the cheek. “The best sister a bloke could ever ask for!”

“Yeah,” she said with some irony. “I know.”

**

Syed still had a key, but Christian just assumed he wouldn't use it, would knock if he wasn't sure they were there. So he was surprised to say the least when he walked in in the middle of the afternoon, the expression on his face making it clear that he'd seen Jane leave, knew he'd be there alone.

Christian stood – automatically – and stared at him, but didn't speak. Syed looked good, dressed in black, pale but still gorgeous. Funny how he'd somehow expected that feeling in the pit of his stomach to have changed, followed the urging of his head, his intellect, his common sense and altered.

But it hadn't.

The only thing in his mind was that he wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him.

“Christian.”

“Hello, Syed.”

“I, I didn't realise you were here.”

“Sorry, thought I'd have a day to myself. No big deal, I can leave-”

“No! No, it's okay.” He began to move forward, hand out to stop him, though Christian hadn't really moved.

Christian stood there, waiting. He didn't really know what to say to him; didn't know why he was there. To see him, obviously, but why, after everything that had been said – and hadn't been said.

“Good Christmas?”

“Sy...”

“Sorry, I just- This feels so awkward, and it shouldn't.”

“No?” 

“Christian, I don't want to fight, not now. My family's going through hell right now. My mum's in pieces, my dad almost died; my brother's in hospital, probably facing the prospect of plastic surgery-”

“And what does any of that have to do with me?”

Syed looked shocked, then that familiar scowl of anger clouded his features as he moved toward him. “I knew you were selfish, but that's just-”

“It was a simple question, Syed. I didn't say I didn't care. I asked you what you wanted from me. We're over, remember? Are you here as a friend? You want my help - as a friend?”

He could see the confusion, the conflict in Syed's eyes as he hesitated, clearly caught by surprise. “I- You said it was over.”

“Yes, but we can still be friends – if that's what you want.”

“I-”

“I'm not in the market for anything else.” And he knew it was harsh, but he could already sense this heading the way most of their arguments did – in bed, everything pushed down to confront them another day. Syed pursed his lips, and folded his arms, ready to fight. “No, Sy, not today. We've said all there is to say about us – not interested. And yeah, you're right, we probably aren't ready to be friends either, so I tell you what; why don't I leave you to fetch what you came here for? I'll be in the bedroom.” Funny that up until very recently it would have been 'our bedroom' and it would have tripped off his tongue without thought, without hesitation. A measure, petty as it may have seemed on the surface, of just how much their relationship had changed, or at least how he'd changed his perception of it.

He took a great deal of care to ensure that he didn't touch him as he moved by.

In the bedroom he sat on the bed and watched the hands of the clock as it marked the time it took for Syed to move from that same spot, and finally leave.


	5. Chapter 5

“So he knew you were here.” Jane handed him a cup, sat on the sofa beside him. He hadn't planned to tell her that Syed had come to the flat, but as it turned out he hadn't needed to – she'd seen him leaving. She'd returned a few hours later, and hadn't, at first, asked him about it, but once it became clear that he had no intention of telling her, she'd broached the subject.

Christian wasn't sure he wanted to talk about Syed, but it always helped talking to Jane. Always. “He knew.”

“So what did he want?”

“For me to fuck him.”

She looked dubious. “You sure, Christian? What with everything that's gone on, you sure he didn't just want to talk? I mean it has to be hard for him to find someone who isn't family to talk about everything with-”

“He's got Amira.”

She gave him a look, a look only sisters could pull off, probably. “I don't like her, I think he's an idiot for getting back with her, but if we leave her out of the equation for a minute-”

“Well that's just it, isn't it? We can't. Oh I'd be bloody _happy_ to leave her out of the equation, trust me, but the point is Syed has made her the biggest factor in this, in our lives. He did that, not me, so the way I see it he can turn to _her_ for comfort, not me.” He took an angry sip of his coffee – and regretted it.

“Christian, be careful, that is scalding hot.”

“I know, but he makes me so angry. You know, I didn't _used_ to hate her – I found her fun and amusing. Yeah there was a _bit_ of resentment there, but it wasn't personal, just about the situation more than anything, not about _her_. Now, now she's decided to blame me for the fact that her precious husband can't bear the thought of seeing, let alone touching her bits I do bloody hate her. She's a manipulative little bitch and any ounce of guilt or sympathy I used to feel for her has gone – completely.”

Jane took a careful sip of her tea. “She is really snide, really sneaky. I cannot believe Syed's so...blind. She was making all these remarks about me and Mas, making it clear that she knew what was going on and wanted Syed to clock on – all without telling him. She's a right little madam, she really is.”

“Sounds about right. And that's what makes me so bloody mad, sis. How can he not see it? He's intelligent, switched on, so if he can't see it then it can only mean that he doesn't _want_ to, that he'd rather turn a blind eye so that he can pretend everything’s hunky dory and get the perfect life he's always wanted.”

“Wife and kids in a big mansion-”

“In Pakistan.”

“You know, I never understood that – why she was so keen to go to Pakistan. She is just not a girl who's ever going to be happy without the West End for shopping, and her American t.v shows of an evening. To be honest I have a hard time believing she's really got a kid.”

“Well, to be honest I think that was more Syed than her. She was on the pill and he made her come off it.”

Jane's mouth made a moue of surprise. “Really? Well!”

“Fucking idiot! If he hadn't been such a- God I want to fucking _strangle_ him sometimes!”

“I _want_ to defend him, but I honestly can't.”

“Yeah, because if he hadn't been such an idiot then we wouldn't be where we are now.”

“God, Christian,” She put a sympathetic hand on his knee. “I'm so sorry.”

“Me too, sorry I wasted so much time on him!”

“Really? Was it _all_ bad? Don't let the sourness you're feeling now spoil the memory of good times. I know you had them! I saw you with him Christian and you have never been happier – not with anyone. Can't you try to hold on to those memories and let the rest go?”

He looked at her. “Jane, I want to, I'm still trying to, but maybe I need to be angry with him, need to get it all out before I can do that. There's still so much I want to say to him, because I don't think he has _any_ idea how I feel, how much he's hurt me. It's like he looks at me and sees a selfish, self-centred dick who puts himself first every time, who has a man who loves him, but because this guy has his own issues to deal with decides that it's too hard, too much trouble and runs away. When I look at him I see a man who simply doesn't know _how_ to have a relationship, who hasn't learned how to be a lover first, a son second, who actually _does_ put himself first. Can you see why we can't work? It's a bloody non-starter isn't it?”

Her hand, still on his knee, became firm as she gripped him hard. “He makes you _happy_ , Christian, and the fact that he was here today, came to see you – however you interpret that – means that he wants to keep trying. He didn't end it, did he? So, I'm guessing that despite what you think, how you see it, he doesn't think it's over.”

“It's over, Jane, he's pushed me too far this time, hurt me too much. There are some wounds that _never_ heal. When it mattered he stood against me; when it matters he always stands shoulder to shoulder with his family. What does that tell you, eh? Exactly. That's why, Jane, why we're broken and can't be fixed. I'll forgive him in time, but never forget, never trust again and how can you have a relationship on that basis? He would have gone to Pakistan without even telling me, without even giving me a second thought. And it's not even that, it's _why_ he's going, Jane. Basically told me that I held him back, that he could only really be himself away from me. What the fuck, sis? How the fuck do you have a loving relationship with someone who secretly resents the heck out of you, who admits that being with you was the biggest mistake of his life?” He turned his face, surprised again by the searing hurt this admission caused. Fooling himself to pretend he'd got over this. Didn’t see how that would _ever_ stop hurting.

 

“Oh Christian, Christian. Come here.”

 

And he went to her, lay quietly in her arms and refused to cry.

 


	6. Chapter 6

He didn't consider himself particularly sentimental, but as he looked at the photo he kept in the inner folds of his wallet knew that he'd not be getting rid of it any time soon.

He was definitely preparing to move on from Syed, but acknowledged that actually getting rid of his favourite photo of him was a step he wasn't yet prepared to take.

Not exactly news that he was still in love with him. That wasn't exactly the point though, was it? The point was that their relationship was blown, had collapsed under the weight of the crap they'd both piled on top of it, and there was simply no going getting it back. The fact that they were still in love mattered not at all in the face of this inescapable truth.

He missed him every day, looked out for signs of him coming and going every day, but the minute he saw him walking out with Yasmin in his arms, Amira by his side the certainty that he was right to keep him at arms length solidified.

It had to be _Syed_ who fucking saw it, who finally, once and for all decided exactly what it was that was important to him. Until Christian was sure that he'd done that – _could_ do that – then nothing, for him, could be said to be any different to the way it always had been.

He had always been prepared to compromise for Syed – still was – but there were some things, now, on which he honestly didn't feel he could or would compromise. And since they were things that were vital to Syed, Christian didn't see how they could possibly reconstruct a relationship based on one person getting their way at the expense of the other.

If he could get to a place where he'd be satisfied that Syed would never put him first then they may have stood a chance, and he truly believed that he _had_ been getting there – until the latest round of drama. The things Syed had said, his actions, the way he spoke to him, allowed Amira and his mother to speak _about_ him – it had hurt too much, made him feel like a worthless piece of crap – a freak – and he was simply _not_ going to be made to feel that way again.

He didn't need an _apology_ from him – worth less than nothing. What he needed was for Syed to simply place him as high in his list of priorities as he placed Syed; to see him as the one who came first. And the point, as far as Christian was concerned, was that Syed simply could not do that, would _never_ be able to do that: Christian, as Jane had put it, might be his priority in this part of his life, but overall, where it truly mattered, Syed's family would always trump him.

And Christian understood now, since Syed had made it so abundantly clear, that it wasn't altogether about loving his family, it was also about _culture_ , about the way he deliberately excluded Christian from certain aspects of himself; the way he'd been compartmentalising his life – probably since he'd discovered that he liked guys – only showing Christian the parts he felt were safe to see.

And what did that boil down to if not the fact that Syed simply didn't trust him enough, respect him enough to share himself – warts and all?

Until he could do that then Christian didn't see why they'd even _bother_ to try again.

 

**

“Come on, Christian, I know you saw me talking to him.”

Christian used the remote to switch channels. “Discussing the weather?”

“Well actually, yeah, there was a bit of that too.”

He glanced up at her. Ever since leaving Ian he'd noticed that she'd started dressing a little more like someone in their early forties rather than someone's elderly grandma. “That scarf suits you, brings out the colour of your eyes.”

“Well you would say that, wouldn't you? You bought it for me.”

“Well there you go then.” He was doing a fairly good job, he felt, of feigning disinterest, but this was his sister and he knew he was hardly fooling _her._

“We both favour snow early in the New Year.”

“Lovely.”

“Really likes the snow, does Syed.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Oh, you do? Thought he was just a memory – well to be honest not even that. Thought he'd been thoroughly-”

“Okay, what did you talk about?” He muted the t.v and turned to look at her, arms folded across his chest, the picture of rapt attentiveness.

“Well,” She perched on the arm of the sofa and looked skywards as she made of show of trying to recall the conversation. “Let me think. After the weather we naturally got to talking about... No sorry it's gone again. I swear if I didn't have me head-”

“Not funny, sis. Tell me!”

“Oh, sorry? You're interested?” She met his stare, and raised an eyebrow. “You're interested?”

“Jane, I swear...”

“Well after talking about the weather, Pakistan and babies – don't! - we somehow got around to talking about a certain stubborn brother of mine who seems determined to make not only himself but his boyfriend really unhappy-”

“God, boyfriend, Jane? Really?”

“He had a lot to say. I listened.”

Christian snorted, adjusted his position on the sofa. “Oh and what did he have to say?”

“That he's sorry; sorry he hurt you, that things went pear-shaped. He swears he was simply trying to make things good for the two of you and he felt that the only way to do that was to keep Amira on side.”

“Still banging the same old drum then.”

“I believe him. Look, I don't know the details, Christian, just what I could work out for myself, and what you told me, but I know he loves you so it made sense to me that he'd try to make it okay for you – for _both_ of you - to be together even with Yasmin in the picture-”

“Jane, I know all that, he's said all that. It's not that.” Sighing he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, looking heavenwards. “It's not about Yasmin. He's a dad, Amira's a manipulative cow who'd want him to jump through a million hoops just to see her. I accept all that, that it's difficult, complicated. It's the lies he told. He started lying and lying – and I couldn't understand why he'd do that unless it was that he didn't trust me, that he didn't think it mattered that I'd feel slighted by the way he was going behind my back. He says he did it for us, but what it felt like was that he decided that this was _his_ business and having me anywhere near it – even knowing what he was trying to do – would fuck it up. But the point, sis, is that he should have _told_ me he felt that way. I'd have bloody understood. She hates me – made it clear that I wasn't to have anything to do with Yasmin, that if I was involved she'd take Yasmin away from Sy too. And what he did, Jane was collude with her behind my back: get access to Yasmin without me being involved. And he can't see how that makes me feel.

You know how I feel about kids, you know the last thing I want is to deprive him of the chance to be a dad to his kid. It hurts that he's a dad, that he's actually got a kid, but only because he isn't willing to share himself – and his kid – with me. No, Jane, you didn't see the way he was when she was staying at the flat; made me feel like a bloody irresponsible piece of shit; like my mere presence would contaminate his precious little pearl. And how much fuel to the fire for Amira's stated intent to keep me away from her daughter?” He shook his head, recalling how it had felt those painful, awkward weeks. “And then with the whole thing with Ben kicking off. He actually believed him, believed I'd felt him up, that not only would I cheat on him, but that I'd do it with anyone interested, no matter who they were, how old they were. Ben's practically my nephew for fuck's sake! No, sis, he's hurt me too fucking much. It's like every time I think that yeah, I could maybe forgive him I remember the stuff between us and it's a no go. I just want to fucking get on with my life. He's just not worth the headache.”

She was silent for a little while, then put a warm hand against his cheek. “So the fact that he really loves you...makes no difference?”

He looked at her. “Didn't stop him breaking my fucking heart, so what do you think?”

She met his gaze, but didn't reply.

“Jane, it's going to take me a long time to get over him, I'm not going to lie about that, but it's over. It really is. Can you just accept that?”

Sliding onto the sofa proper she caught him in what he'd call a headlock had it been anyone else, and kissed him on the forehead. “It's New Year's Eve and someone made me promise to take him out, so you still game?”

“I'm game, with one proviso.”

She immediately became suspicious. “Go on.”

“Let Uncle Christian dress you, darling. Don't want anyone mistaking you for my granny.”

“You cheeky little bugger!” She tightened the headlock.


	7. Chapter 7

She knew he watched them, probably stationed himself at the window hoping to track their comings and goings. She knew this because Christian did the same thing. She really didn't understand why her brother was being so stubborn about this. It was obvious he was still in love with Syed, obvious Syed was still in love with him. Sometimes you just had to swallow your pride and decide what was really important in the long-term. She loved Mas, had done for some time, and would definitely have taken him back had he made any moves at all in that direction, but the point is he hadn't; hadn't said a single word or shown by action or expression that he wanted them to get back together. Syed _had_ , clearly _desperately_ wanted Christian back. How could she tell him that her brother was absolutely determined to keep shutting him out?

Well, looked like she was about to get her opportunity...

“Jane!” he sounded a little out of breath; clearly he'd been waylaid as he tried to come after her and had had to run to catch up.

She gave an internal sigh and hoped that her expression, as she turned to face him, would be enough, would obviate the need to actually say the words. “Syed, hi.”

“I saw you leaving. I wanted to ask you... Did you talk to him?” 

He was looking quite drawn, even more so than he'd done earlier. No surprise, really, the stress he was under... “Syed, look, he's not in a good place, right now. Give him some time.”

“What did he say?”

Had ignored everything she'd just said. No surprise, though, he'd been doing a pretty good impression of a man at the end of his rope when she'd seen him earlier, no reason on Earth why anything would have changed in the meantime. Clearly the only thing that would satisfy him was getting Christian back. “Syed, you can't expect him to pretend that everything’s okay-”

“I'm not asking him to – you know that. I just want us to talk. How can we sort anything out if he won't talk to me?”

Well she couldn't argue with that one. “I know, that's what I think, too, but I'm just saying that right now he won't – he's not ready.”

His eyes were quite lovely – gentle like Mas'. She could absolutely see why her hard-as-nails brother had had his heart morph into marshmallow over this guy. Really explained why he was taking such a hard-line now: just couldn't afford to let him in again, not while he still felt vulnerable. “I know I hurt him. I- he's never given me a chance to say sorry. If he'd just give me a chance-”

“He won't.” She saw that this had hurt him, and regretted her terse response. “Sweetheart, I know you love him, and of course you want to be with him. But he doesn't expect you to give up anything for him. That is the point, Syed. I think he's reached a place where he accepts that you both want different things, and rather than expecting you, asking you to compromise what you want for him, he thinks it's better you go your separate ways.”

He didn't speak, but she could see the tears standing in his eyes. She sensed that he was a breath, a word away from bawling his eyes out, and she couldn't stand that, couldn't let that happen.

“He loves you so much, Syed. Don't ever think he doesn't.” She put a comforting hand on his arm. “Don't throw him away, no matter how hurt you are, or frustrated. He just needs time – maybe space away from you and...everything – to think, to evaluate things. I know my brother and I know that when he's hurting he'll say and do some pretty daft things. You know that too, right? So don't think that it's over just because he says it. He does mean it – now – but it's not because he doesn't want you or want to be with you.” She sighed, surely she shouldn't need to tell him what Christian needed in order to start trusting him again, but she was afraid of taking a misstep here – such a delicate situation. As far as she was aware being with his daughter was so tied up with being with Amira that any mention of her would probably be counter-productive; have him retreating once more.

“I tried to talk to him, but he was so cold, so dismissive. He really hurt me.”

She gave another heart-felt internal sigh. Well she certainly knew that Christian was capable of that, but if he expected her to take _his_ side... “He probably didn't mean to, but like I said, he's just not ready, Syed. You need to give him a few more days. I know him, he can't hold a grudge for long.”

He stared at her again, mind clearly working overtime. It felt to her that he wasn't really listening to the parts where she told him that Christian wasn't ready, and she could totally understand that: he'd probably reached that point where being without him had become unbearable; the grit in your eye, the pain in your chest that kept you up at night; the ache that just would not go away. For him there was only one remedy and he was deaf and blind to _anything_ else. “I have never loved anyone this way before. Tell him. Please tell him.” 

Jane, personally, hated seeing men cry – a weakness she'd had for years. Even Ian had got to her whenever he cried - except when she'd become completely indifferent to anything he said or did and it had simply made her want to kick him even harder. She wasn't indifferent to Syed, not just because he was Mas' son, Christian's beloved, but because he was a good person, someone who felt things so deeply that it hurt you to see them hurting. “Syed, don't. I will tell him. I promise.”

“I can't lose him. I thought I could do it, but I can't. It's not over, it's not.”

As she rubbed comforting circles on his back, she couldn't help thinking that he might well be wrong about that... She wasn't even sure she'd tell Christian about this. What would be the point? He was ready to move on; knowing Syed loved him wouldn't change that. There were a series of steps that would probably have to happen before Christian even made an effort to re-evaluate their relationship, and as she comforted the tearful Syed she wondered if heeven had the first clue what they were...


	8. Chapter 8

“God, woman, aren't you ready yet?” He nimbly dodged the push - years of practice. According to Jane he'd been teasing her even _before_ he'd been able to walk!

“Perfection takes time, but I suppose _you_ wouldn’t know that.”

“Ooh, like that, is it? Well this should be fun!” He offered his arm.

She took it. “It had better be!”

 

**

Jane could pack it away, that was for sure. And that was okay, because he sure as well could too.

 They were a bloody menace together, had to be said – as bad in many ways as him and Roxy, just a bit less...loud. And it would be easy to let the 'I'm a wife and a mother!” stance fool you. He knew her: good time girl was written all over her. You just had to get her in the right light to see it...

“Not your type, darling.”

“He's male, fit. Sure he's my type.”

“Well you're not his. Trust me.”

She stared at the guy who'd been giving him the eye – surreptitiously, he was with his wife, after all – all evening and gave a drunken scowl. “You think every fit man plays for your team.”

“Darling, I wish!”

She was still staring. “He's got a girlfriend...”

“Wife.” he took a sip from his half-full glass. “And you should know how much _that_ means.”

She turned her stare on him. “About that...”

“Not tonight, Jane. Don't want to think, let alone talk about him tonight.”

She was giving him that look he hated, the I'm-going-to-do-the-big-sister-thing-in-a-minute-and-you're-probably-not-going-to-like-it one. “I saw him earlier.”

“Have you been drinking, sis? I know you did. Remember? You _told_ me, remember?” He enunciated each word very carefully, very slowly and only just managed to dodge what looked very much like a roundhouse punch! A tipsy one, but still...

“You deserve a slapped botty, you do.”

“A slapped botty? Careful, hon, anyone listening might mistake you for a dominatrix.” He laughed when he saw the way her eyes lit up at this observation. “Hold your horses, sweetheart, not in that get-up they wouldn't.”

“You chose it, remember?”

“Yeah, but if I'd have wanted to go for the dominatrix effect I'd not have gone for baby blue. Kinda takes away from the effect.”

She made a face and sipped her drink, coughed when it went down the wrong way.

“Alright?” He gave her a helpful 'pat' on the back.

“Will be. In a minute.”

He watched her fondly. Couldn't take her anywhere, but also could think of no-one he'd rather be spending this evening with.

 

**

“Your sister? Really?”

The guy – Dave – seemed unsure whether to be amused or put out. He seemed altogether unsure, Christian couldn't help feeling: unsure whether Christian was worth the effort he was being asked to expend, unsure whether Christian was his best bet for the night and should therefore be 'cultivated'.

Christian could read him like a book, wondered if he looked like a novice or something, rather than an old hand at this and many _other_ mating dances. “I take her with me – for protection.”

“Yeah?” Even in the dim light of the club, with the music making communication difficult Christian could see the guy figuratively looking around for a convenient excuse to withdraw.

Christian could have made it easy for him – or not. Leaning in he whispered in his ear. “Ditch her when I no longer need... protecting.”

Dave practically melted into his space, leading with his cock. “Ditch her then.” His hand migrated to Christian's arse, squeezed greedily, possessively.

Christian snaked the tip of his tongue into Dave's ear. “Hold on here then. Won't be long.” When Dave tried to kiss him he held still for it, but didn't let it deepen. Placing a firm, seductive hand in the middle of his chest he met his gaze and slowly licked his lips. “Wait for me.”

 

Jane raised an eyebrow in enquiry. 

There were about 5 separate questions in there, wasn't sure how many he was willing to answer. “Let's go.” He took her by the hand.

“Where? Home? Christian it's only-”

“Upstairs. Come on.”

She didn't speak – well, no way to make herself heard over the music – until they reached the relative calm of the lobby. “But what about what's his face? You seemed to be getting on really well.”

He glanced at her. “Not really my type.”

“So why were you-”

“Playing, just playing, sis.” He ignored the stares as he walked upstairs with her. Anyone would think some of these queens had never seen a woman before!

“So you're not copping off tonight then.”

There was _something_ in her voice, so he decided to put her out of her misery: let her report _this_ back to Syed if she liked. “The night is still young, and it's New Year's Eve, so what do _you_ think?”

They stood staring at each other, the milling crowd fading unnoticed into the distance.

“You can put a brave face on it, Christian and yeah cop off if you like, but in the end it's still all about him, isn't it?” She took his chin in her hand and shook it. “You may say it's over, even think it is, but I know and deep down you do too that it isn't, won't be, forever and ever. There are some people aren't there, who just get under your skin and no matter how you try to wash them out with drink, other guys they'll always be there. For me, that's how it is with you and him. I know the difference, okay? I know he's under your skin – and sweetheart, you're under his skin too.” She sighed deeply, let him go, but didn't step back at all. “He caught me up in the street yesterday, asked me if I'd talked to you – persuaded you to give him another chance. Christian he told me to tell you that he has never loved anyone the way he loves you, told me to let you know that it isn't over, will _never_ be over.”

Shocked, angry he turned away from her and carried on walking.

If he cared that much then why the fuck hadn't he told _him_ that? New Year's Eve and he wasn't here, had chosen to spend it instead with his 'wife'. So what the fuck did that say? In his book actions spoke ten times louder than words and by his actions Syed was sending him the message – loud and clear.

So, by _his_ actions he'd make it clear to Syed just exactly how much it was indeed over. 

Done.

Finished.

 


	9. Chapter 9

He woke in his own bed, but only because of Jane: he'd been cross with her, but, well, that hadn't lasted, and since there was absolutely no way he was leaving her to navigate this snake pit by herself, he'd given himself a little time to cool down then gone looking for her. He'd ended up dancing most of the night with her, telling himself that this was for her, but that next time he'd go out by himself so that he could do what he damn well pleased without her to either worry about or worry _at_ him with her 'you won't get over him that way' face.

Actually, _that_ was the perfect way to get over him – he should know, he'd been there a hundred times before, after all. But Syed had got to her, it seemed, and all she seemed to be doing lately was singing from the songsheet he'd handed her; the one where all the songs had slightly different lyrics, but the same fucking refrain!

Did she not know him at all? Push him and he'd jump the other way, just out of sheer bloody-mindedness. Not that he was being bloody-minded right now, of course. He was here, alone, in his own bed – unfucked, unsucked – and what a bloody miserable morning after the New Year's Eve before this promised to be.

Jane really was a demon when it came to the booze. Shouldn't she have been discouraging him rather than egging him on? Well at least he'd been able to walk to the front door, get himself to bed. Wasn't even bloody sure where she'd finally ended up – passed out with her head hanging over the kitchen sink probably. 

She wasn't, she had actually made it to bed and after a quick look – and equally speedy averting of eyes – he made his careful way to the bathroom. She'd taken off all her clothes and then what, decided that that was enough for the night and just lain down on top of the bedclothes?

Lady bits were bad enough at the best of times, but your own sister's lady bits? Shuddering, he switched on the shower, and considered the prospect of facing the day...

 

**

A mug of strong sweet coffee didn't quite do the trick. He had considered frying bacon just to get back at Jane, but it was pretty clear from the pneumatic drill-like noise coming from the bedroom that the smell of an entire herd of cows, sheep, pigs roasting would make no inroad into the blank stupor of too much alcohol taken on board, so he'd left it.

Had to get out though, if only to escape the bloody noise, so grabbing a jacket and a set of keys, he beat a hasty retreat.

He really should get back into the training again. Actually there were many things he needed to resolve to do this year.

He didn't even glance toward the Masood abode; had in fact become very adept at pretending it wasn't even there...

 

**

Well he wasn't one to back down or run from a confrontation so seeing her there – dressed to the nines, made up like she was going to fashion shoot – didn't even put a hitch in his forward progression.

“Hi Denise. You doing okay?” He grabbed several cartons of orange juice from the fridge.

“Getting there, Christian. Can't really complain. There's folks much worse off than me.”

“So sorry, love. Anything I can do. You know that.”

“I know and thank-”

“Syed and I want to offer our condolences, Denise. We really wanted to offer you a place to stay-”

“Amira, it's okay. I know that things have been...difficult...for your er mum and dad lately.” She glanced at him, seemed uncomfortable – as any decent person would be in that situation. “Was it just these then, darling?”

“Of course when Syed and I move into our own place – we're thinking Chelsea, maybe St John's Wood – we'll be able to be better hosts.” A tinkling little laugh that he assumed Denise was no more taken in by than he was.

“Got any bread in fresh, darling? I know it's New Year's so-”

“Excuse me, I was talking.” She barely gave him the courtesy of turning and addressing her remarks to his face, facing forward almost immediately to convey just how much of a nonentity he was to her. “I think the business is looking really promising. Syed is so excited, says he hasn't felt this fired up, this alive in years. It's like he's been sleepwalking or something, just waiting for the right...opportunity...to come along. To be fair though, when we met he was really ambitious, really going somewhere. But when I came back it was like the life had been sapped out of him or something, like he'd just been going through the motions. I can't tell you what a pleasure it's been seeing him come to life again. It's like I've got my Syed back.” She hugged herself – figuratively and pretty much literally, too. “And I tell you, I'm _not_ letting him go again. How much did you say?”

 

**

 

She was waiting for him outside as he'd known she would be: she was the type who wasn't content to know they'd drawn blood, they had to _bury_ you too, shovelling the last bit of dirt directly into your face.

“Why are you back, Christian?” She fell into step beside him, and because he was spoiling for a fight and ready to draw blood himself he let her, slowed his gait so that she wouldn't break her neck trying to keep up with him. “I don't see what there is for you here.”

“You don't? Well, surprising as this may seem, sweetheart, you're not clever enough to be able to see all the angles.” He glanced down at her. “Are you?”

“He's not coming back, you know. I'm really surprised that you can't accept that.”

He laughed, but declined to respond to this.

“We're happy together. I know you've seen us – me, Syed and Yasmin. Happy family unit. He's never been that happy with you, has he?”

“Hmm, let me think...” He was on the verge of laughing at her desperation, her certainty that she was getting to him.

“Next door and he has never once even tried to see you. What _more_ proof do you need? He's over you, Christian. Face it.”

“Well okay I'll 'face it' the day he doesn't come over to me, begging em to fuck him – with his wife and kid tucked away next door.” He looked at her. “If I were you the next time he tells you he' s going to the shop I'd tail him, see where he _actually_ goes.” He could tell by her expression that this had got to her. Well she was way way out of her league, punching well above her weight, and he'd keep pulling his punches so long as she threw in the towel. Otherwise...

Her face was a picture. “You disgust me, you know that? He's left you, but you don't have the decency to leave him alone because you're a desperate old queer who knows no-one else will have you!”

“Got any more perfume to spray in my face? Or maybe it'll be the nails this time.” An exasperated sigh. “You're wasting your time Amira, he will _never_ want you, and for the record: I'm the one who left _him_.”

They'd come to the end – any further and there was a chance that Syed would see them together, and he was guessing she wouldn't necessarily want that. He didn't really think that Syed, these days, was likely to believe that _he_ was the one who'd started the bitch-slapping.

“So let him go then, leave Walford.”

“But why would I do that? It doesn’t bother me seeing him with you. Syed, on the other hand – very possessive, doesn't like _anyone_ else playing with his toys.”

He saw her trying to assess his meaning, saw when her puzzlement became smug confidence. “Oh I know that. I don't suppose he told you how jealous he got when he thought I was seeing Danny, Roxy's brother.”

“Hmmm.”

She was full on smiling now – a smug, self-satisfied smile. “You think he doesn't get possessive over me? I think you'd be surprised.”

He threw back his head and laughed, then came close to her as if to convey a secret. “Actually, darling, I would be – very surprised. He _did_ tell me, actually, told me he had to imagine I was the one he was fucking to even get him there. Oh and you know that time, when you asked me for advice to get him to want you? Well you know, of course, that I'd been fucking him for about a year at that point, right? So who do you think he was thinking of at the time? How do you think I _knew_ how to get him hot? I know you don't know how the whole fancying other blokes thing works, love, but every single time he fucked you he had to think of me to get it up. That seed he planted in you? _I'm_ the one who made him spill it.” He winked at her, started to walk away, “So, I'm going nowhere, darling. See you around.” 

 

He wondered idly if Jane had woken up yet...


	10. Chapter 10

He'd downed about 3 litres of juice, watched several hours of stultifying crap on t.v and begun to fall asleep himself before he heard any signs of life from the bedroom.

Still groggy he listened in some amusement as his sister rose from the dead...

 

**

The shower had been running for what felt like hours, and when she came into the lounge, hair wet, dressing gown on, she still looked like warmed over crap.

“Hi sis!” he said at the top of his lungs, laughing when she aimed a kick at him. “Any water left? For Walford, I mean.”

“Piss off!”

Laughing, he turned his attention to the television, listening to the sounds of her making what was probably going to be a gallon of coffee. “I hear the council came knocking earlier.”

She looked over, concerned. “Yeah? What’s happened?”

“Oh, nothing, someone told them they could find that pneumatic drill they misplaced here – in your bedroom. I asked them if they could please turn it off, take it away.”

“You know what, Christian – oh, orange juice?” She looked at him, surprised. “Did you go to the shop?”

“Yeah some of us were fully-functional a _lot_ earlier in the day.”

“The mini-mart? Patrick opened up today?”

He shrugged. “Denise was in, opened up for a few hours.”

“That's a surprise.”

“Yeah. Lifesaver though. Didn't realise we had nothing in!”

“We did – you scoffed it all. But never mind that – skimmed, Christian?” she held up the carton, a derisive look on her face. “ _You_ may want to be fit.” She put it back in the fridge, closed it. “I don't.”

He grinned at her. “No comment.”

“Anyway, she was okay? Holding up?”

“Well to be honest she looked pretty down, a bit stressed – as you'd expect – but I think she wants to keep busy. Best thing when you're trying not to think about things.” He saw the look she gave him (even in her hungover state she seemed incapable of _not_ banging that drum) but ignored it. “And you will never guess who I saw.”

She walked over to the sofa, their biggest mug filled to the brim with what he figured was the strongest black coffee ever, pushed his legs off the seat before curling up beside him. She took a long sip and made a face before answering. “Let me guess.”

“Like I said...”

“Well it couldn't have been Syed otherwise you wouldn't be looking so pleased with yourself.”

“I don't know _what_ you mean,” he said archly.

“An ex.”

He snorted. “Trust me, sis, I'd run a bloody mile if any of my exes turned up on my doorstep!”

“Not a good look, Christian,” she scolded, taking another sip.

“Not my fault if the guys I ...sleep with...are only good for the one thing. What? Just being honest. Anyway, no, it wasn’t an ex – well not one of _mine_ , anyway.” Seeing her frown he elaborated. “Princess – her next door.”

“Ah.”

“Claws out, ready to scratch my eyes out.”

“Oh dear.”

“What? She was asking for it.”

“Wish I'd been there.”

“I went easy on her.”

“Yeah, right. Thing is I _know_ your 'easy', Christian. Girl's probably in bits right now.”

“Yeah, and I am really sorry about that.”

They looked at each other and grinned.

“The fact that Syed likes her, wants to be with her...”

“Christian, I have got a banging head and I'm barely human at the moment so can we not do this right now? Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't think I can cope with another rant about your ex.”

“Oh charming. Not like I'm always talking about him. _You_ talk about him more than I do.”

“Yeah maybe, but not anymore. I get the message – you're over him. Fine, let's leave it then.”

He frowned at her, obscurely offended by this. He'd wanted her to stop banging on about Syed, but getting what he said he wanted felt curiously unsatisfying. “Good,” he said, unmuting the t.v. “About time.”

She sipped her coffee and watched his profile, saying nothing at all.

**

He saw them all piling into the taxi, heading to the hospital no doubt.

He wanted to be indifferent, wanted to even like them a little, but despite his involvement in rescuing Masood from the fire and getting a voluntary 'thank you' from Zainab, he found that his core feeling hadn't altered that much. He still didn't like them as people, still felt that they were the most hypocritical and elitist bunch he'd ever tied himself too – and didn't exactly exclude Syed from this.

Made his choice – family over lover – and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

One of those guys who wanted the benefits without being prepared to take the risks (or consequences), and Christian still despised that sort of cowardly shit. Okay, he no longer expected Syed to be who he wanted him to be, but he wasn't going to pretend that they could be friends either. Had Syed not been his lover, the guy he was in love with, he'd have fucked him off long ago – definitely not his kind of people.

Stupid love: blind and stupid love; made you do all kinds of idiotic things – compromise your principles for a start, put him first, put up with all kinds of shit.

All of that now, though, completely done – no more, not ever.

He was so clear: until Syed woke up and smelled the fucking coffee there wasn't even the chance of civility – okay maybe civility, but definitely nothing more – between them. Every single time he saw him in the bosom of his family the embers of resentment burned a little brighter and the desire to even give him the time of day dimmed even more.

Oh and maybe, after all was said and done, Amira was right: maybe he was bad for Syed, maybe it was absolutely time to move on – for both of them, for both their sakes.

Syed could say he loved him till he was blue in the face – his life, his choices, his actions said something very different – and that's how Christian worked: not about what you _said_ , but what you did.

Syed had told him, was still telling him, all he really needed to know.

 

**

“Well, considering that you spent the last two days looking like something the dog threw up on the rug you're doing well, girl.”

“You certainly know how to make a girl feel special. Ever wondered _why_ you're gay?”

Christian laughed and hugged her. “Never, but hey, we aim to please. I only give compliments when they're deserved.”

“I feel so privileged.”

He kissed her. “Okay, let's get out of here, see what trouble we can get into!”

“But go easy on the booze. I haven’t recovered from New year's Eve yet.”

Christian answered this with a wink.

 

**

He hadn't really expected Syed to be there, but he should have considered the _possibility_ – Tamwar was in hospital and it was only natural that Syed would step into the breach.

He hadn’t planned to do it – put his nose out of joint in such a blatant way – but seeing him there, seeing him acting as if nothing was wrong, acting like he hadn't chosen Amira over him, looking at him with those eyes like he had a right to – well it had just happened.

Jane was not impressed, didn't need to be particularly sensitive to mood or atmosphere to clock that, but he was committed to it, didn't really regret his decision. The guy was boring to talk to, but he wasn't planning on doing that much _talking_ to be honest...

As they walked out the door he made sure he was the last to leave.

Syed was standing near the door ,arms folded, looking absolutely furious, so he decided to thank him for the lovely meal - on behalf of his guests too.

“A nice bottle of wine would have been great, but no matter I'll just have to enjoy my dessert without it.” He didn't wink at him, but he didn't need to, did he? He was pretty sure that his meaning was clear enough.

It was wrong to feel such satisfaction at hurting another person, but when had he ever pretended to be a saint?


	11. Chapter 11

 

The sex was _good_ , actually, and they hadn't talked about doors – or windows – even once, not even Frankie Howerd style. 

And this, more than anything, made him wonder if getting over Syed would be as hard as he'd always expected it to be.

**

Jane had made herself scarce the next morning. She didn't approve and had made it quite clear. Since she knew he didn't actually _care,_ she'd elected not to fight, mind her own business – this time – and give them some space.

Well they didn't _need_ space – they were both bloody exhausted after the previous night's acrobatics. Funny how sex was always different with a new guy. When it was just sex you noticed the mechanics more. He'd really got out of that habit since he and Syed had started sleeping together. Sex was just another thing they did together – mechanics didn't come into it at all – it was just him and Sy loving each other.

Well that was over now, and yeah he'd miss it – miss _him_ – but they'd all made their choices, hadn't they? He had wanted them to get married, Syed had wanted to go back into the closet, live the straight life with his poisonous Barbie of a wife. So who had thrown them away then? Alright for Syed to claim _he'd_ been the one to end it, but who had struck the first blow, who had taken out the first brick that led to the entire wall collapsing?

They were over, and he wished he could say that he was okay with it, wished he could say that he'd reached a place where he'd stopped being angry with Syed. He hadn't, but he would, and moving on with his life was the best, most effective way to get him there.

Well his present companion might not end up being a lifetime partner, but he'd provided an opportunity to get back into the saddle, and for that he deserved a nice breakfast at the very least...

 

**

He didn't even know why he wanted to hurt Syed so much. He'd never wanted to before, had always tried his hardest not to, but lately all he'd wanted was to see him squirming, writhing in agony.

And he had no idea why Syed insisted on making it easy for him. The way he made it so obvious that he was jealous – no, jealous was too small a word – gutted was more like it. The guy was just a casual pick up and Syed _knew_ Christian was deliberately winding him up, so why did he show how much it hurt to see Christian with another man? In his position he'd have gone out of his way to show how much it _didn't_ matter...

“He is that waiter from last night isn't he?”

“Sorry?”

“Look, Christian, don't get me wrong, I like you, loved what we did last night, but I'm not looking for anything complicated-”

“No, you've got-”

“It's okay, it's obvious that you've got business to finish with him.” He leaned in to kiss him. “How about if you ever get that sorted you give me a call.” He smiled. “I'll always be open to a call from you.”

Christian grinned at him. “You're on, and that waiter? My business with him _is_ finished, actually.”

A wry smile. “Sure it is. Call me when you've cleared the decks.”

Christian watched him lope across the square, knowing that he most definitely wouldn't be calling him again, then with a shrug, reached for his phone.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Jane was his sis, and that, really, was half the problem. They had history, a way of interacting that time and maturity couldn't really change. When she disapproved it mattered. No, he'd probably go ahead with whatever he'd decided anyway, but it did matter. And this is why he sought out Roxy that lunchtime; knowing he'd behaved badly and needing someone who didn't fucking give a stuff, wouldn't tell him to grow up or be kind. He didn't fucking feel like being kind to Syed, and didn't want to be made to feel guilty about it.

Yeah Jane had his back, but in a big sister way, meaning that she looked at the long term, tried to see the bigger picture, what she thought would be best for him. He could tell that she 'wondered if his current choices weren't ultimately self-destructive'. Of course she never quite put it _that_ way, but she was his sister, so he knew. And though she'd admitted that she wasn't Syed's biggest fan, she'd obviously got it into her head that Christian was better _with_ him, than without. Well fuck that: he fucking well _knew_ that he was better without him.

Syed could look at him like a kicked puppy till the cows came home, Christian didn't bloody care anymore. He was so fucking tired of being manipulated. He had never, ever allowed anyone to get that close to his heart before. Yeah all the better to rip it out by the roots. A lover was supposed to be the one person you could trust not to stand on your neck when you'd been beaten to the ground. Syed hadn't been the one to beat him to the ground – though he'd had a hand in that, no question – but he'd been the one with his knee braced on Christian's trachea, making absolutely certain he'd have _no_ chance of rising to his feet. 

And he came to him, pleading with him, wanting to be forgiven. Not because he really thought he'd done anything wrong – as far as he was concerned he hadn't, had, in fact, done the right thing. Claimed it had been for them, but his rant the other day had made it clear that it had nothing to do with what might be best for them, and all about what was best for him – and his little ready-made family. Well fuck that, fuck him, fuck all of them.

Syed wanted him, that was bloody obvious, but Christian had moved on. Sex was so bloody unimportant these days – he could get that anywhere, anytime. What he couldn't get was what he felt he'd had with Syed. Oh it had never been easy, had never been about to be _easy_ , but that hadn't mattered, because Syed, had – eventually – chosen him and that had meant the bloody world to him. Yes, they'd still a pile of baggage to deal with, but that hadn't mattered because Syed had chosen to be with him, had committed to making them work, had taken his courage in both hands and _demonstrated_ his love.

But it all been a confidence trick, done with smoke and mirrors, the 'love' between them as insubstantial as early morning mist. 

When they'd first got together, Christian had braced himself for the first test, and sure enough it had come, swiftly followed by several more, but each one had been handled, dealt with, and thus his confidence in them had gradually increased. Grown to the point, indeed, where he'd felt happy to make the ultimate commitment. Commitment; something Christian Clarke simply didn't do, all for the man who he knew was the love of his life. And Syed _was_ the love of his life – he knew that for sure – it just didn't mean what he wanted it to mean: lifelong commitment, growing old together. All it actually meant, really, was that he'd never now love anyone the way he'd loved Syed. He just wasn't constitutionally _capable_ of that kind of love – Syed had been the one man to break through his barriers, break all his rules – and it just wasn't ever going to happen again...

He just couldn't understand how he'd got it so wrong...

**

“Oh come on, Clarke, I know that look. He was good, wasn't he?”

Christian leaned back in his seat and waggled his brows. “Darling I'd tell you, but I don't want to make you feel bad.” A condescending pat on her hand. “Let's just say that if you find him be sure to take notes.”

Her eyes widened. “That good?”

“Well I'd like to think he was _inspired_.”

She smacked him on the arm. “Don't flatter yourself, he looked like he was gagging for it, to me. Er, gagging for it from _any_ bloke.”

“Well then I was lucky to be the one he chose, wasn't I?”

“So was it just blowies or...”

“Seriously? In the middle of your cousin's caff, Rox?”

“Well unless the walls have ears...” She took a sip of her coffee, eyes fixed on his face. “You fucked him, yeah?”

“Roxy Mitchell, your interest in the ins and outs of my sex life is seriously starting to concern me.”

“No, he fucked _you_.”

“Well, sweetheart, we _were_ up for a long, long time...” Grinning he took her coffee cup, drank. “Oh my god that is rank! How many spoons of coffee in that?”

She wagged her finger in his face. “And that's what happens when you steal other people's drinks!”

He stared at her. “You did it on purpose?”

Cackling, she nodded, turning briefly to look at the girl Shirley had hired to serve behind the counter. “Told her to make it strong enough for the spoon to stand up in. And that's the thing, Christian, you _alway_ s do that – steal my drink – so I thought I'd make it really _nice_ for you!”

“With friends like you...”

“Oh come on, who else can you discuss blowjobs with?”

“Well, now you-” He broke off as the door opened and Syed came in. Their eyes met and held as Syed stared straight at him. “Fuck's sake.” It was obvious that Syed must have known he was in the café. He'd looked straight at him when he came in, was still looking at him, standing there _looking_ at him.

Turning, Roxy saw him too, and scowled. “Oh wonderful. What a pity he didn't come in a few minutes earlier. He needs to know you've moved on!” She raised her voice enough that Syed would hear her last sentence, and Christian, staring into Syed's eyes, saw that he'd heard alright, and felt a measure of guilt for the pleasure he took in seeing him hurt.

“Don't worry, he knows.”

They stayed that way, staring into each other's eyes, until the door opened and Amira came in. Following Syed's eyeline she frowned unattractively when she saw him and Roxy sitting there.

Christian broke eye contact with Syed and focused all of his attention on Roxy.


	13. Chapter 13

 

Jane was at the flat when he and Roxy returned. She wasn’t pleased to see him there with Roxy, not because she had anything against Roxy, but it was obvious she wanted to give him a piece of her mind, and she'd only ever do that in private, so...

“Christian, you got plans for tonight?” Her voice was as casual as she could make it , but Jane had never been good at dissembling.

“Do you mean am I going to be fucking some other bloke tonight? Well, can't say, sis – night's still young.”

“Actually I think it's still a twinkle in its daddy's eye,” Roxy said, giggling.

He laughed too, not because it was that funny, but because he wanted to wind Jane up. He knew she hated it when he got like this. Syed did too; didn't really like Roxy, thought she was a bad,bad influence. Well he'd never taken any notice of him then, certainly didn't give a stuff what he thought now! “Well when the night reaches the age of consent I'll take it out and show it a really good time. Sit down, you're making the place look untidy.” He pulled Roxy down on the sofa beside him, meeting Jane's disapproving stare with a steady stare of his own. She never made a scene: that's one of the things he liked most about her. She would, in fact, go out of her way not to embarrass you in front of your mates - or anyone else. So easy to take advantage of this, and not going to lie, he'd done that more than once before now. “You heading out?”

She glared at him. “No plans to, no.”

They stared at each other, Roxy watching them, the thoughts swimming behind her eyes. “You know what, darling, I've got a ton of housework I should be getting on with.” She tried to get to her feet, but he held her down.

“It can wait, you're supposed to be entertaining me.”

“Why, you down in the dumps, Christian?” Jane’s' arms were folded across her chest and she was wearing that expression – the one that said: 'you're my brother, I love you, but there are times when I really don't like you very much at all.' This was one of his least favourite ones, because it _always_ got to him. He _cared_ that she liked him – liking someone was a choice you made; _loving_ them wasn't always that much of a choice, he'd found. When she looked at him like that it made the foundations give a little, and he simply wasn't prepared to let that happen.

Sighing, he let Roxy go. “Call me in a bit.”

“Better believe it – you _owe_ me.” Bending down she kissed and held him for a little while, making it clear that she knew he was in for it. “See you, darling,” she said quietly, then standing, she smiled at Jane and with a final wave at the door left them to it.

He didn't think that Jane had stopped staring at him even for a second, but at least she wasn't _quite_ wearing that expression anymore. Still annoyed, but probably didn't want to smack him _quite_ as hard. Had to count that as a win.

“Look, I know what you're getting at, but it has nothing to do with bloody Syed, okay?”

“Oh Christian, can we stop this? _Please_.” Sighing, she took the seat that Roxy had so recently vacated. “Let's stop pretending you're okay; let's stop pretending that last night wasn't about getting back at Syed; that you acting out with Roxy – with the drinking and partying – isn't about Syed-”

“We had a cup of coffee in the caff. In what universe could that be described as _partying_?”

The 'you are not too big for me to put across my knee' expression made its appearance. He didn’t mind this one too much, meant that she wasn't really angry, just exasperated. “Whenever you're with Roxy there's only ever _one_ thing on your mind-”

“Sorry to break this to you, Jane, but she really isn't my type.”

“And I can tell that you're planning something really daft.”

“You're good, really good, because I don't know how you could know that – know something _I_ don't know about what I'm going to be doing later on tonight.”

“Well when I say planning, I use the term loosely. The whole bloody point about you and Roxy is that you don't plan things out at all. You're like a couple of naughty kids egging each other on. Combine that with booze and a driving beat and you're a disaster just waiting to happen.”

“We've got it down to a fine art. I know it's hard to comprehend when you're not used to it, but it only _seems_ like we're a runaway express. The reality is that we know what we're doing. We just like to go for it, that's all – we're never actually out of control.”

She sighed and smacked him on the thigh. “You don't bring out the best in each other, and I think that, right now, she's the worst person to take advice from.”

The look he gave her was not friendly “Well maybe, but at least _she_ doesn't keep telling me to take him back!”

“Well she'd never likely to do _that_ , is she?”

“Yeah, because she's got my back.”

She opened her mouth to say something, changed her mind and looked at him in silence for a little while. “Yeah, she does – she tells you what you want to hear – and I have no doubt that she has your back, but Christian she'll _never_ tell you the things you need to hear.”

“Correction: she doesn't tell me the things I have absolutely no interest in hearing.”

“My point exactly.”

He rose to his feet. “Jane, it's over, okay? I saw him just now – in the caff – _with_ his wife. If he wanted me as much as you say, was so desperate to be with me, then tell me, please tell me how I'm supposed to fucking believe that when he' still got his wife all over him, still making those _same_ choices? If he wanted me, I'm here, right fucking here. And where's _he_?” He could feel his pulse racing as angry indignation took hold of him. He tried his best to be cool when it came to Syed, but so far just talking about him, about the reality of the situation was a guaranteed way to get him hot under the collar.

“But every time he tried, Christian, you knocked him back.”

“See this is what you just don't get, Jane. I know he wants me, knows he wants to have me, but until he can fucking let go of what he's got - chooses _me_ , in other words – then he can go fuck himself, cos in my book not one single thing would have changed.”

As she looked at him he saw that she did finally get it, nodding in sympathetic understanding, because she saw, as he did, that Syed was never going to make that choice.


	14. Chapter 14

Jane began to tiptoe around him and rather than telling her to bloody stop it, that for him _nothing_ had changed – he'd been there for a while – decided to get Roxy to entertain him.

Syed must have been waiting for him to put in an appearance, because the minute he set foot on the pavement he heard the Masood door slam then the familiar sound of Syed's footsteps behind him. He was slightly curious to hear what he'd have to say for himself, but not curious enough to stop and turn when Syed called his name.

“Christian, please. I need to talk to you.”

“Not stopping you, darling. Talk away, don't mind me.” He took out his phone, dialled Roxy's number.

“Christian, please, don't be like this.” Syed had reached his shoulder, almost put a hand out to stop him, but when their eyes met, drew back his hand. “We can't get anywhere like this. We need to sit down together and-”

“Hi, darling, remember that drink you promised me? Well I am on my way to the Vic and if I sit for more than 3 minutes without a vodka in my hand I will not be responsible.”

“Since when have you drank voddy?”

“Since you're paying.”

“You'll have a half a lager and be happy about it!”

“Brandy would be even better, to be honest.”

“In your dreams. And I'll be there _before_ you!” The phone went dead in his ear.

He looked at it, laughed and put it back in his pocket.

“I love you, Christian, and despite everything I know you love me too.”

Syed was no longer trying to keep up with him, standing there – presumably – with that stubborn look on his face. Since Christian knew the look so well he didn't feel the need to confirm its existence, and since he wasn't interested in the tune Syed was singing didn't feel the need to respond – in any way shape or form.

He was being a bastard and he knew it, but if Syed thought that all he had to do was say the 'right' words and he'd come into line – give him what he wanted – well he was going to see a side of Christian he had never seen before.

When you loved someone and they constantly fucked you over, well there came a time when the tears could no longer be repaired, when love and desire simply failed to be adequate reasons to keep bloody trying, keep putting your heart on the ground to be stomped on.

The fact that he could turn his back on him, deliberately hurt him, and not give a stuff, told him that he'd reached that point.

 _He_ knew it was over, Roxy knew it was over, and now Jane did too,

When the fuck would _Syed_ know?

 


	15. Chapter 15

“I'm guessing you had another run-in with lover boy.” Roxy stroked sympathetic fingers through his hair. Didn't know how she'd managed it, but she had, indeed, beaten him to the Vic, making an obscene gesture at his frowning face as he saw her sitting there, no drinks ordered, but coat off, looking unforgivably smug.

He'd leaned in for a kiss, then demanded a drink, smiling because he was pleased to see her, but still angry with Syed. He'd figured he'd hidden that last part pretty well. Obviously he'd overestimated his acting abilities...

“Yeah, came scurrying after me, telling me I still loved him.” He took an angry sip of his drink. Not the best idea he'd ever had...

Roxy, slapped him on the back, then left her hand there. “And do you?”

He looked at her. If he could be honest with anyone it would be Roxy. “Nothing to do with it. I still have feelings – of course I do – but I am so fucking angry with him that it doesn't _feel_ like I do – love him, I mean.”

She nodded, sagely. “You do, though.”

“But, it doesn't matter. Why do people think it _matters_? It's more a case of more fool me, and you know what, I will get _past_ that. I don't even expect it to take that long. The more he does that – demands everything from me without giving a fucking thing in return – the quicker I'll get the fuck over him!” No point in taking a sip – he downed the entire glass of brandy and set down the empty glass hard. Seeing Roxy's raised eyebrows, he continued. “I can't believe the nerve of him!”

Roxy's snort said that she had a different perspective on Syed's 'nerve'. “he was never right for you. No, wait, I know we've never got on, but if he'd been right for you... Look, Christian, he has always, always played you. I know you don't want to hear it, but you've let him run rings around you. No, hold on, please don't tell me you've forgotten all the crap he put you through when you first fell for him. I honestly couldn't believe it when I realised you were serious about him.”

He looked at her. She'd never made any secret of the fact that she wasn't Syed's biggest fan, but she'd made an effort to keep her opinions mostly to herself. It seemed, to him, that she'd probably been dying to air her views of Syed, and was seeing this as the perfect opportunity. But for all that he was angry with Syed, he wasn't ever going to be able to allow anyone to badmouth him in his presence and not say anything. She didn't like him, loved Christian, and that tended – in his opinion – to skew any perspective she may have had on Syed too far south of true for his comfort. “I loved him – _still_ love him – and he has his faults, but they're not what you think they are.” He gave her a one-armed hug, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. “How about we stop talking about my ex and concentrate instead on the fact that I pulled, and _you_ got rejected by a man old enough to be your daddy!”

Her mouth and eyes became Os of indignation, and laughing, he picked up their glasses, “Brandy for you next time?” and sauntered to the bar.

The door opened and Syed came in, Amira in his wake.

Christian rolled his eyes and turned his face, hoping to god he wouldn't be stupid enough to make a scene here.

“Oh great,” he heard Roxy say in a low voice. Couldn't really tell whether or not she was going to initiate anything, but he knew her, knew she was spoiling for a fight...

He really should leave, but wasn't quite in the frame of mind to be that fucking _adult_...

Taking the drinks he brought them over to their table, taking note of the ice in Roxy's eyes as she watched Syed lead Amira over to a table near the door.

They'd be able to see each other without even trying.

Had he been really childish he'd have swapped positions so that Syed would have only his back to look at.

“Did he _follow_ you in here?”

Christian shrugged. Syed hated the Vic, so wouldn't really be there for pleasure, as such... And Amira...Well he didn't imagine she'd be here for pleasure either. “No idea. Don't fucking care, either. But I tell you what, if he turns that look on me one more fucking time...”

Roxy stared over at the other table, presumably trying to clock that 'look'. Christian could have saved her the trouble: it wasn't anything someone else _could_ clock – something wholly private, between them alone. To anyone else it would have seemed like any other look Syed might give him – or anyone. Only he and Syed knew that it wasn't. And that absolutely infuriated him. Sitting there, his wife all over him...

“You know what?” Roxy was reaching for her coat. “I think we need some music. No, I mean music – _proper_ music. How about we get a bottle, take it back to yours, get the CDs out...” Her eyes were big and pleading. Well yeah, he was being a miserable sod and would continue to be, so long as he had Syed staring at him, making it impossible to relax. No wonder she wanted to get out – and get _him_ out – of there.

“Okay, I'll go halves on the bottle.” He handed her a £10 note. “Brandy, yeah? And why not go the whole hog and get some crisps and nuts, too?” he grinned.

“Oh and you think a tenner's going to be enough?” she teased, reaching for her bag.

He didn't have a coat to put on, but made a production, nevertheless, of getting ready to leave.

He hadn’t meant to catch Syed's eye, but the stare he was sending Christian’s way was as forceful as a touch and, despite his best intentions, he found himself glancing over.

They were both staring, their expressions so different he wanted to laugh.

“Come on, Rox. How long does it take to buy a bottle of booze?”

“Er, excuse me, I'm _negotiating_. This joker thinks that because this is a boozer he can charge boozer rates for a bottle. No, Alfie I will not pay 25 quid for a substandard bottle of brandy!”

“Keep your voice down, love.” Alfie looked around sheepishly. “Don't want my customers getting the wrong idea.”

“What, like you fleece your customers on a regular basis? Sorry, love, they already know that.”

“What they _don't_ know is that you water down your spirits.”

“Oh no, now you're going too far. I have never, ever watered down a spirit in my life!”

“What, you just leave it to Kat?”

Alfie didn't respond at first, merely stared thoughtfully at them. As the silence lengthened, Christian and Roxy exchanged a look.

Alfie banged both palms on the counter. “Oh okay, seeing as it's you, and you being practically family and all.” He paused as if deep in thought. “Tell you what let's call it £15 and we'll say no more about it.”

“Throw in a few packets of crisps and nuts and you're on.”

“You know, for such a sweet-looking, pretty young lady you don't half drive a hard bargain.”

Christian threw back his head and laughed. Roxy hit him on the arm.

“She's not sweet?” Alfie pretended confusion.

“It's the pretty, the young and the lady I was having trouble with.” He deftly ducked her next attempted assault.

“I'm saying nothing,” Alfie confessed, handing Roxy a bag. “Lovely. Please do come again,” he said without a trace of irony.

Christian laughed again, and taking Roxy by the arm, started walking toward the door.

He could see Syed practically squirming in his seat as he watched them, but was more than a little surprised when he abruptly got up and moved to intercept them.

Amira, mouth half open, made an abbreviated attempt to rise, but caught in two minds remained there, only able to watch as Syed placed himself directly in Christian's path.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Syed's eyes said: there's no-one here except me and you, but what he actually said was: “We need to talk.” A glance at Roxy. “Alone. Hear me out please. If you still feel the same afterwards, then fair enough, I'll leave it. But give me a chance. Please.”

“Syed.” Roxy was the only one who deigned to look in Amira's direction.

No-one answered her.

Christian gave him a long, long stare – hostile, unbending. Didn't want him to think that he was home, not by a long chalk. Whatever he had to say would have to be gold, all the way through, to be enough to get through the barrier Christian had erected. “Meet me later. 10. Time for you to get Yasmin to bed, read her a story.” Stew for a good few hours.

Syed didn’t' smile, but the tension left his body, which was the _equivalent_ of a smile, as far as Christian was concerned. Well, thought he was home and dry, did he? They'd just have to bloody well see about that.

Christian put an arm around Roxy, led her out the door, ignoring the fact that Syed was still standing there staring at him, that Amira had appeared at his elbow wearing an expression that could curdle milk...

All he knew was that come 10 that night Syed was going to be given a really hard time.

**

They had a few glasses of brandy, danced to a few tracks, but his heart wasn't in it, and she could sense that.

“Come on, sit down a minute.” She pulled him by the hands.

“ I was enjoying myself,” he protested.

“Yeah, but I'm tired.” She blew out a long breath, arms spread across the back of the sofa. She watched him for a moment before leaning over and touching his face. “You thinking about tonight?”

“Syed, you mean?”

“Yeah.” She was watching him closely.

Christian sighed. “The thing is, I know it's not going to change anything.” He looked at her. “He just doesn’t get it, thinks it's all about me thinking he doesn't still want me. He'll bare his heart and soul, say all the things he thinks I want to hear – and don't get me wrong, it'll all be genuine – just not want I want to hear.”

She frowned. “That he puts you first.”

“No,” he said with some exasperation. It wasn't aimed at Roxy, just the situation. “No, I don't want to hear that – that's just words. Look, Rox, I know he isn't anywhere near ready to be in the sort of relationship I want us to have. I just have to look into his eyes.”

“So you're going to knock him back.” When he didn't reply she touched him, made him look at her. “You don't expect anything to come from it, but you're going to put him through it anyway.”

“No, it's not like that. I don't expectanything from it, but he was determined, so I decided to let him _have_ his 15 minutes.”

He couldn't quite read her expression, but it didn't seem that she completely believed that he wasn't doing this out of spite. “He's not going to give up.”

“Oh I think he will.”

“But you're not planning on giving him a hard time.” Her voice and expression did nothing to hide her scepticism.

“Not in the way you think, no. I just know that he just won't get where I'm coming from, and we'll argue and he'll throw accusations and I'll probably throw some back. Don't worry, though, he can give as good as he gets.”

“Yeah, he's pretty good at looking after number one.”

Christian shrugged. “Sy's not selfish.”

“Just self-centred.”

“Yeah, sure, at times. Me too, though.” He looked at her. “I'm not angry with him anymore, Rox, don't think I need to vent about him. I don't. It just needs to be over and that's why I agreed to see him – to finish it.”

Her silence told him that he had shocked her. “It's over, Rox,” he felt compelled to explain. “I don't expect anything he says tonight to change that, and I intend to make it clear to him, once and for all, that we're done, to stop trying to get us back.”

He hadn't expected her to react the way she was reacting: he'd fully expected that the news would fill her with glee, but that wasn't the case – she seemed instead to be almost deflated by his words. “Christian, sweetheart.” She put both arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Are you sure? I don't want you crying on my shoulder tomorrow.”

“Roxy, for the first time since we got together I'm certain about everything, certain about how I feel.”

“And you feel you don't want Syed anymore?”

Too tired, too tipsy to explain he chose, instead, to tighten the embrace, allowing her to read his silence in any way she chose.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

When Roxy left he took to his bed for a couple of hours: he hadn't exactly had much sleep the night before, and his head was aching a little. He didn't really feel that he wouldn't be able to handle the meeting with Syed in his current state, but knew that he tended to be a bastard when he was feeling under the weather, and felt that he owed Syed a fair hearing, if nothing else.

He drifted into sleep, his mind on the memory of the way Syed had looked at him in the Vic...

**

 

“You alright?” Jane was trying to act casual, but he could tell that she was worried about him.

“Nice shower, nice dinner – hint hint – and I'll be right as rain.” He felt better for the sleep – nice solid few hours of uninterrupted sleep, something he felt he hadn't had for months.

“I looked in on you earlier – sleeping like a baby.” The question in her voice was unspoken, but there, nevertheless.

“Absolutely knackered. Really caught up with me.”

“The booze probably didn't help.”

“Actually, it did.” Jane was a boozer, so he wasn't about to take any kind of lecture about overindulgence from her. “You cooked at all?”

She gave him a look. “I had a snack a little while ago.”

“I am absolutely ravenous.”

“Yeah? That's what booze tends to do.”

Hmm, didn't look like this was going to be as easy as he'd hoped. Well the chippy was always an option. “Okay, I'll pop to the chippy in a minute. I'm just hopping into the shower – still need to wake up properly.”

“You going out?”

He stopped at the door. “Well, only to the chippy.”

“Oh, okay.” Her voice was casual – _too_ casual.

Christian thought about addressing it – her unspoken disapproval of his antics the previous night – but didn't have the energy, not when he was due to meet Syed in a couple of hours. “See you in a bit.”

**

Jane had cooked – pasta, his favourite dish.

He hugged her in silence, knowing he was lucky, happy to know that he'd always have her on his side, no matter how much of an enfant terrible she thought he wsa being. “Love you, sis.”

“Love you too. Now come on, let's get stuck in.”

Jane had apparently had an encounter with Masood earlier that day, and wanted to vent.

Christian, personally didn’t like Masood anymore. He'd liked him quite a lot at one time, but over the last few years had learned things about his character that had changed the way he felt. Leave him in a burning building? No, but only because he wouldn’t do that to anyone; only because he was Syed's father and that meant something. He absolutely resented the way he'd used Jane, and would never, ever forgive him for that. Leave _him_ to bleed to death on the street, wish him dead, treat his own son like dirt he'd scrape off his shoe, but fuck around with his sister and he was worth less than nothing as far as Christian was concerned.

Seemed that he'd been his usual spineless self; according to Jane, still wanting her, but making it clear that he'd wormed his way back into the Zainab's life and was ecstatic to be there.

Jane had allowed herself to fall for him, and she was hurting, no matter how hard she tried to hide that fact. Like Syed, Masood seemed not to understand exactly what he was doing wrong, why putting your family – and your place within that family – above all else might be hurtful to the _other_ people in your life.

Like father, like son. Shouldn't be surprised, really, and he wasn't, didn't mean he was okay with seeing his sister hurting over another selfish Masood man.

“Did he say anything, like sorry for instance?”

Jane shrugged. “He _sort_ of did – done it before, too. It's just...”

Not good enough. Yeah, he knew all about that. “I know – too little, too late.”

A resigned nod. “I did have a good time with him, though, Christian. Can't complain.”

No, because she rarely d _id_. “Well, y _ou_ can choose not to hate him – that's fine, it's who you are. Alright if _I_ don't feel the same way?”

She sighed, reached over to touch his hand. “Don't project what you're feeling about Syed onto him, Christian. I'm hurt, won't deny that, but the last thing I want is for you to be even more hurt, even more angry about the situation with Syed by taking on my issues with Mas.”

“Not about that,” he denied, spearing a piece of pasta.

“I _want_ to be angry with him – Mas, I mean – pretty sure it'd make me feel a whole lot better, but for how long? And it won't get me what I want. It might make me feel better in the short run, but in the end, it's all just a waste of time and energy, isn't it?”

“Maybe, but you know me, I'm all about living in the moment – not really interested in the long run...”

“Yeah? Well if that were true, you'd have slept with Syed the day he came round 'gagging for it'.”

“No, because I never got to the point where I wasn't angry enough to even _consider_ sex.” This silenced her, didn't stop her giving him one of her looks, however. “Look, Jane, okay, yeah, you're right, the situation with Syed _isn't_ helping, but the truth is I'd still want to take his head off for messing you around the way he has...”

“I know, and it helps, it does. Knowing that I've got at least one person on my side really helps, but I hate the thought of making things even more awkward between you and Syed.”

“Oh don't worry about that – it's sorted.”

She stared at him. “Seriously? You've sorted it? You talked?”

He looked at his watch. “Oh in about 90 minutes.” Seeing her look of puzzlement, he explained. “We agreed to meet, talk. Not that it'll do any good, but that's what he wanted.”

Her look was steady, expression unchanged. “What are you planning? I now you're planning _something_ , just can't tell what it is.”

He laughed. “Why does everyone think I'm planning something? I'm not. My only 'plan' is to let him say what he has to say, listen, and then say what I have to say. No plans beyond that.” He took another mouthful of food, watching her. She wouldn't believe him, he knew that, just didn't know what exactly she assumed he had 'planned' for the upcoming meeting.

She didn't believe him. “Christian, that's not fair: you can't raise his hopes when you know full well-”

“Who's raising hopes? I agreed to the meeting he bloody well insisted on. If I hadn't agreed to meet him you'd be telling me off about that too! Seems like I can't win no matter _what_ I do.”

“Oh stop being such a drama queen, I know you, remember? I know when you've got something in the back of your mind, some scheme you've decided on that no-one else knows about...”

Sighing, he lay his fork to one side, gave her his full, earnest attention. “I'm not 15 years old anymore, Jane. I don't operate that way anymore.”

“No,” she admitted. “You mostly don't, no, but I know you're not going into this meeting completely neutral-”

“Neutral? _Neutral_? You bet I'm fucking not. How could I be fucking neutral, Jane? I'm not _angry_ with him the way I was even earlier today, but I'm a long fucking way from neutral!”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, neutral might not have been the _best_ word in the circumstances. All I meant was that I sensed that you were going in with an agenda and that Syed probably doesn't realise you have one.”

He stared at her, not trusting himself to speak with any kind of _civility._ “Can we change the subject, please? I don;t see us getting anywhere at all with this, and if you want me to be as 'neutral' as possible with him then rowing with you won't bloody help. Agreed?”

She didn't, that was more than obvious. “Christian, please, don't make up your mind before you even talk to him. Give him a chance. Not for his sake – it's not Syed I care about.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. I Hate to see you unhappy, you know that, and if there's any chance you and Syed can get through this then you owe it to yourself to at least give yourself the _best_ chance.” Another squeeze. “Give him a chance, Christian – a proper one. Don't make up your mind before you go in.”

 

He returned her intense, pleading stare for a long, long moment before releasing her grip and picking up his fork. “Ball's in his court.” That was all she was getting, and after a while she showed her acceptance of this by nodding and picking up her own fork.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

Jane had indicated her intention to give him and Syed some space by spending the last few hours of the day at the Vic. He'd protested this, calling it wholly unnecessary, but the truth was that he _would_ feel better knowing she wasn't there to listen in on their conversation. He didn't _intend_ to behave badly, but a two way conversation in complete privacy would probably be best. Jane wouldn't intrude, wouldn't intentionally eavesdrop, but her presence would definitely have an effect – on Syed too, most likely. He wanted them both to feel free to say exactly what they wanted, to get as angry and vicious as they needed to. All he wanted was to clear the air – really clear it – for once and for all and getting down and dirty without an audience present was probably the best way.

So when she _insisted_ , he stopped protesting, saying only that she didn't have to spend the _night_ there, that the conversation would probably be over in 5 minutes. She'd given him one of those looks, but he'd smiled, kissed her and said he was joking; that he was definitely on his best behaviour and would do his best to give Syed a fair hearing.

And he would – do his best – he just knew that they were both quick-tempered and stubborn and from past experience the best intentions didn't always work out the way you planned...

**

Syed still had a key, but rang the intercom. Not a good start: Christian had expected him to let himself in, and was a little peeved that he hadn't. As far as he was concerned this meant that Syed was trying to make an impression – a certain impression – and that didn't sit well with him at all.

He was still sitting when Syed came through the door and didn't bother looking in his direction. “Help yourself to coffee, if you like,” he said, placing the magazine beside him, and folding his arms.

Syed hovered for a few moments, obviously not quite sure how to read him. “Er, thanks, maybe later.” He stood for a moment longer, looking at him. “Okay if I sit down?”

“Help yourself.” 

Christian frowned, unable to hide his surprise when Syed moved the magazine and sat beside him. 

Christian didn't return his smile.

“I've missed this place.”

“Yeah?” He wanted to move away, but didn't want to give Syed the satisfaction of displaying his discomfort so obviously.

“Got pretty used to us having our own place. The bedsit felt more like your place – this feels more like ours.”

Christian gave him a steely look. “Don't.”

“What? Tell you I still want you, think about you every day – every second of every day?”

“Yeah, that. I don't know why you think that's going to do any good.”

“I think it's something you need to hear.”

“Well, that just proves how little you actually know me, then.”

Syed didn't respond straight away, just sat looking at him, a why-are-you-being-like-this expression on his face. Well it had come a little earlier than Christian had been expecting, but he _had_ been expecting it.

He held Syed's stare, challenging him to do better than that. 

 

Christian could see the thoughts dancing behind his eyes; should he accept the challenge, ignore it, change tack... 

“I know you, Christian. I'm just not sure that you know me.”

Christian laughed. “Well, at last, something we can agree on. You're right, I don't know you. Thought I did, turns out I was wrong on that score.”

Syed grabbed his arm, expression earnest. “But we can change that. Can't we? Isn't that what being in a committed relationship is all about? We've lived together, yes, but you don't get to know another person in just a year or two. Of course we're going to have sides the other doesn't know that well, doesn't mean it's a problem, that we can't make it work.”

Christian shrugged. “I agree, it doesn't _have_ to mean that. What would be the point of getting married if we knew all there was to know about each other? I'd have thought that one of the great things about marrying someone was the prospect of getting to know them, everything _about_ them.”

“Exactly. I know we've both made mistakes the last few months, but we're both committed to us, so we can get past them.” He moved his hand slowly down Christian's arm, stroked gently across Christian's fingers. “Can't we?”

“Can we? You think it's as easy as that, Sy; that we can just say we want to and then bam! it's done?”

“No, of course not, but we can start by saying we _want_ to.” His look was expectant.

Christian sighed. “Yeah, we could, and yeah I’d like to, but there's too much wrong between us for me to believe that it would ever be as simple or as straightforward as _you_ seem to think.”

Syed stroked his hand. “But we do both want to get past this, don't we?”

“Not as simple as that.”

“Just say you do – _if_ you do, that is.”

Christian began to feel a flicker of irritation: Syed seemed determined to get his own way – even something as simple as getting Christian's agreement to the desire to get their relationship back on track and he wasn’t about to get rail-roaded into agreeing to something he wasn't sure he _did_ desire. He pulled his hand from Syed's grasp. “You have got a nerve, you really have. Or have we conveniently forgotten the wife and kid next door?” he got up and moved to the other side of the room, annoyed with himself for making the tactical error of allowing him to get so physically close in the first place. No wonder he was feeling confident.

“No, I haven't forgotten Amira and Yasmin. Are we still doing this, Christian? You know what that's about. I told you I was trying to get Amira on side, not for me, for us, so that everything could go as smoothly as possible given the circumstances. You interfered in that – and no, I'm not blaming you-”

“Like fuck. I can see in your face, hear in your voice that that's a fucking lie. We gonna be honest or keep playing these stupid fucking games?”

For a moment there was total stillness between them, Syed completely blank of expression, - except for the darkness in his eyes. He was getting angry, too, and Christian knew that before long there'd be an explosion. Maybe not quite yet though: he'd probably try to hold it down for a little longer. “I'm not playing games, Christian; I'm trying to be as honest as I possibly can. I've made no secret of the way I feel about you – to my family, yes, to Amira, too. You're the one who ended our relationship – against my wishes, without even telling me you wanted us to finish. You walked away, Christian, left me alone, still in love with you, with no chance to get a thing sorted. Yet I’m still in love with you, still want to have a relationship with you-”

“But what does that even mean, Syed? Is it because you love me, or just because I'm convenient, the guy you know, the guy who knows all your dirty family secrets, so that you don't have to go through all that crap again with anyone new?”

Syed stared at him, genuinely astonished. “What?”

“If Amira was a bloke would you even _want_ me back?”

Syed stared at him, still astonished, but Christian saw the moment the question truly penetrated, saw the way he began to _think_ about it.

Arms folded, he gave a little snort. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It's not me you want, it's the fact that all the work's already been done with me, which means that you needn't do it with the next – more suitable – guy.”

Syed sat back in the sofa, and stared up at him. “I cannot believe you just said that, don't believe you really believe it.”

“Well, are we being honest or not? I'm willing to be. How about you?”

“So your 'honesty' is all about how you see _me_ , how _you_ think _I_ see us. How about a bit of honesty about you, about how _you_ see our relationship?”

“Okay. I think we could be good together – really good – if I were someone different – if I came from the same background as Amira, had money, business ambitions, an elitist, snobby attitude, if I wasn't a loud, out and proud gay guy, who wasn't prepared to ever hide who he was – for _anyone_. I think then you'd be all over me, would actually feel alive every second of the day rather than dying a little every day you're with me.”

Syed swallowed hard, his eyes bleeding emotion. “Christian, please.”

“ _You_ said it, not me. And you were being honest, Sy. It hurt, but now I'm really glad you had that _one_ moment of genuine honesty. All this time I was thinking that you were happy with me, doing what you were doing, living where you were living. Not the best place, not the best career, but enough for you because we were together. Now it seems that you were stagnating, that you weren't happy at all; you were feeling stifled – and not even being with me made it okay-”

“That's not true: being with you does make it okay. It's the only thing that did make it okay.”

“Yeah, because the minute I wasn't there you couldn't wait to make tracks, could you, make your mark in the business world. I mattered so much when I was out of sight, that you were prepared to _emigrate_ to further your ambitions.” He could say these things now without wanting to kill someone, and he was glad, glad he'd reached that point, painful as the journey had been. Their relationship had been built on a lie, and the best thing now was to admit that, and maybe, just maybe try to get past it.

“It wasn't like that.” Syed had risen to his feet, taken a step toward him. His face wore an expression that Christian could only describe as desperate. “Christian, I didn't mean it that way. I told you – it was about _me_ , not you. If it was about you then what would I be doing here? If I didn't want you then why would I risk humiliating myself by asking you to get back with me when I know you're still angry with me, that you want to hurt me?”

Christian shook his head, happy that he could deny this with a clear conscience. “Sy, I don't.” He sighed. “I just- Look, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've been so angry with you since I got back. You hurt me – a lot – but I know you didn't mean to. The trouble is that doesn't really change anything. We're not working, and I don't see a way to change that. Where we are, I just don't see any way back. You and Amira – parents, in business together. The last thing she wants is to allow you to get back with me, so she's going to make life hard for you, make you choose between me and Yasmin. I have never wanted that, and now I see that you're better off without me I definitely wouldn't ask you to. I'm not ready to be friends, but I want that to be _possible._ If I took you away from your daughter then I don't think it would be.”

“Christian...” but he didn't continue; he didn't continue because deep down he must have known that Christian was right.

“I'm not angry, and I don't want you to be either. I just want us to get to a place where we can be friends again – _like_ each other again. I'm not sure that we do right now – if we're being honest, Sy.”

Syed didn't reply, didn't break eye contact. His eyes were bright with unshed tears and Christian could only meet them for a short while before he had to look away. He didn't want to hurt him, that was true, but he _was_ hurting him, that too, was true. “I'm glad you're not going to Pakistan.” As peace offerings went it was inadequate – woefully so.

Syed didn't bother to respond. He stood looking at him, daring Christian to meet his eye.

The silence built and built, became too awkward to allow to continue. 

Christian met his eye. “I'm sorry, Syed.”

“Once again, you've decided things for us - for me - without feeling any need to actually get my opinion on the matter, without even _talking_ to me.”

Christian said nothing. “When did you decide that you weren't enough for me, that I wanted more than I had with you, that what I had with you was never going to be enough? When did you decide that, Christian, _before_ you came back to Walford, when you were sunning yourself on a Spanish beach? Or when you slept with another guy and decided that you preferred sleeping around than being in a committed relationship?” His eyes were flashing, chest rising and falling with the rapidity of his angry breathing.

Christian knew that Syed wanted – _expected_ – him to come back with spiteful, bitter recriminations, and yesterday he would have. Now, there simply wasn't any point. “Sy, you know it's never been about that. We work – in and out of bed – only us working was because I didn't know that you were only living half a life, so really we weren't working at all – not the way I thought we were, not the way I want us to. It's not about anyone else – never has been since I met you.”

“For me either. You know that, I know you know that, so why are you _making_ it? I have only ever loved _you_ , Christian. I have given up so much for you-”

“Yes, and that's the problem, Sy. You've given up everything, and what have I given up, really? I've been angry and resentful of the way you always put your family before me, but that's when I didn't understand. I know now why you were so reluctant to move away with me, leave your family behind. God, the fact that you were going to move to Pakistan to be with them...” He sighed. “Yeah, it hurts, but I'm a big boy, not gonna bury my head in the sand just cos there's something I'd rather not have to look at. I'm not enough. You can say otherwise till you are blue in the face, Sy – your heart says different, and that's all I'm interested in. _You_ won't tell me the truth, so I have to go with what I know's in your heart. I hold you back, you can't be who you want to be when you're with me, so I'm letting you go. Because this time I get it. I thought it was because you couldn't have what you wanted – access to your daughter – while I was in the picture, and that's why I ended it. Now I see that it's deeper than that – not just about Yasmin; about you, about getting the chance to be who you need to be without me getting in your way...”

“Don't, please, please Christian, please don't.” Syed's voice was jagged; full of broken glass, and when he moved blindly into his arms, the tears falling freely now, Christian allowed the barriers to fall, and held him as tightly as he possibly could.

 

**

When Jane arrived home a little over an hour later he was still sitting on the sofa, staring into the middle distance, doing his best to keep the pain at bay for just a little longer. But when she took off her coat and came to sit beside him, her gently caressing hand surprisingly warm on his cheek, he told her, and allowed himself to cry at last.

 

End of Part One


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

 

 

 

Part Two

 

 

“Syed, come on. I thought you were getting the samples together.” Amira was dressed to go out, her hair hidden under a dark pink hat he recalled buying for her a few years back. She still had that?

Stirring himself he turned to her with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

She paused, looked steadily at him, the thoughts transparent behind her heavily mascaraed eyes. “Syed, we talked about this.” She came closer, rested her hands lightly on his arms. “He's leaving, and I know you feel like you've failed somehow by not being able to make it work, but we both know you're doing the right thing. The rest will fade in time. Syed, you know it wasn't going to last – how could it? - and now he's gone – going – it'll be easier to get on with your life.” She waited for a response, and when none came sighed and wrapped both arms around him. “I'm sorry, Syed. It'll be okay.”

But though he accepted the embrace, returned it, he knew she wasn't sorry and that it wouldn't be okay...

**

 

Christian was driving Jane's car. He'd told Syed that his sister's taste in cars left a lot to be desired, especially since he generally had driving privileges, but that he had zero influence on her when it came to the actual _choosing_ of a car.

Syed watched him loading the car with their possessions, wondering if Christian was giving him a second thought. He didn't look particularly happy, and kept glancing toward the house as if he expected him to make an appearance any minute, but the fact remained that he was leaving – for good – and that had been entirely down to him – a decision _he'd_ made, fuck anything Syed might have wanted.

He had possession of their flat, of course, but he didn't want it: how could he live there without him, knowing that he was never coming back; that he'd never see him again? How could he be there with Amira, knowing that she – and Yasmin – had been the reason they'd fallen apart the way they had? He knew _intellectually_ that it wasn't down to Amira, but a problem he and Christian had created between them, but also knew that the reptilian part of his brain would simply start seeing her as a threat and set about destroying her. She didn't deserve that, and Yasmin _certainly_ didn't. But if they moved into the flat he didn't see how things wouldn't start going terribly wrong for them.

He needed to see his daughter grow up, wanted to see her every day and that meant Amira had to be a part of his life, but living as a couple simply wasn't going to work for him. He had to change something in his life or risk the prospect of going absolutely insane.

Losing Christian for good was stressful enough, he most certainly couldn't cope with any further stressors.

Not today, not today...

Jane came to the car, handed Christian another bag and engaged him in an intense low-voiced exchange before getting into the passenger seat.

Christian spent a few more minutes rearranging the boot before slamming it shut and going to the driver's side.

The sound of the door closing acted like the crack of a whip, and galvanised into action, Syed hurried to the front door and ran to the car, which had started up, but hadn't begun to move yet. “Christian! Wait.”

They both turned to look at him. Christian wound down the window, green eyes sombre as he saw Syed's frantic expression. “Sy, don't. Please.”

“Don't leave me. Please don't leave me.”

“It's for the best, Sy, you know it is.”

“Not like this, Christian. We still need to talk.”

“We've talked, we've done all the talking we can, Sy.” He reached out and touched Syed's face.

His hand was shockingly cold, but Syed held it against his skin, kissed it. “There'll never be anyone else.”

Christian's voice was low, intimate. “For me either.”

Syed stared into his eyes. “Then please...stay.”

And the only comfort he was able to take from this in the weeks and months to come was that he saw Christian hesitate, saw him consider it. But then he withdrew his hand, hardened his resolve, put both hands on the steering will and said: “No.”

Syed watched them drive away, wondering how long it would take him to fall apart; how long before he was no longer able to keep it together for his parents sake, for his daughter's sake.

When Christian had left him last year it had _hurt_ , but he'd known deep down that it wasn't over, that if they saw each other again they'd fall into each other's arms the way they always did, and at that moment in time _Yasmin_ had been the love of his life, so he'd not been as devastated by the loss.

And, of course Christian had been able to sense this, had known that he wasn’t first in Syed's heart anymore. Except it turned out that Christian had never believed that he had _ever_ been first. He believed that he'd always been second best, always would be, and had decided that he simply couldn't live that way anymore. Anything Syed said just fell on stony ground since Christian didn't think he ever said what was really in his heart, just said what he felt he _should_ say; what he felt Christian wanted to hear him say.

And that just felt so unfair – he was so in love with Christian his head was a complete fucking mess, but obviously he was _useless,_ because he had clearly never come anywhere close to conveying any of that to the _one_ person that mattered. And now, now he'd lost him.

And Syed honestly didn't think he had the capacity, right now, to even begin to cope with that loss.


End file.
